


The Rabbit Hole

by BlueMaize



Category: Flashpoint (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2017-09-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 05:13:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 37,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6410218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueMaize/pseuds/BlueMaize
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In an AU where Spike never joined the SRU, an encounter with an armed man leads Spike to meet Ed Lane and he just can't get those blue eyes off his mind. Ed can't forget him either, but his curiosity about the technological genius he's fallen for inadvertently stirs up the past and puts Spike in danger. Helping him out of it proves to be a challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know where this came from or where it's going. Tags above are subject to change.

Spike was jogging through the woods on his usual route while mentally rewriting his latest firewall. It was fair to say he was preoccupied but not so distracted as to miss the sound of crashing branches coming his way. He slowed but kept moving, eyes on the woods beside him.

He caught sight of the figure, a man, running downhill. He saw Spike too and changed direction to head towards him.

“Help me, please.”

Spike slowed to a cautious stop.

“What’s wrong?” he called.

He realised his mistake seconds later as the man reached the path and Spike caught the glint of metal, taking a step back as the man lifted the gun in his hand and pointed it at Spike’s head.

Spike raised his hands.

“Give me your phone.” The man demanded, shifting feet and glancing behind him towards the woods. Spike wondered who was chasing him, more bad guys or the good guys? Either way, he wasn’t sure either of them wanted to hang around to find out. “Here.” He handed over his phone.

“You got a car?” The man added, snatching the phone from his hand. “Sure.” He replied, pulling the keys from his pocket and handing them over too. They were grabbed and stuffed out of sight.

“Car park?” This last question was accompanied by a sharp jab of the gun against his forehead.

“Keep going straight downhill from here and you can’t miss it.” He said, pointing.

He heard a shout in the distance and he turned towards it. ‘Rookie mistake’ he thought a second later as he caught movement in the corner of his eye and pain exploded in his head. He crumpled to the ground, grunting as the man accompanied the pistol whip with a savage kick to the chest. And then he was gone, running footsteps fading into the distance.

The shouts got closer.

“We’ve got a civilian down, on the path just above the car park. Suspect is sixty metres ahead, on foot. In pursuit.”

Spike, who’d rolled to his side, tried to get his hands and knees under him. “Buddy, just stay right there. Help is coming.”

The voice that shouted to him was commanding and sure so he let himself lie back down on the path, trying to just breathe through the intense pain.

For a long while nothing happened. He focused on his breathing and the burning in his ribs and not on the agonising pain in his head.

He heard footsteps returning, an angry sounding voice talking.

“We lost him, Greg. He must have stolen keys from the civilian and taken his car. We need to set up road blocks. Yeah, checking on him now.”

A hand contacted his shoulder and on instinct he tried to shift away, groaning as pain exploded through is skull.

“No, hey, stay still okay. My name is Ed Lane, I’m a police officer. I’m going to check you over.”

Two fingers pressed against his neck.

“N't dead.” Spike managed to grumble.

“No. But I bet you’ve got a pretty sore head. Anywhere else hurt?”

“B’stard kicked me.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers and toes?” Spike did.

“That’s great. Any pain in your neck or back?”

“No. Just my head and ribs.” Speaking of heads, his was beginning to feel oddly detached from his neck.

“Yeah, we saw him clock you pretty hard with the gun.”

“Uh-huh. Took my phone and my keys. And my car, I guess.” He tried to sit up, but hands stopped him. "Don't try and get up just yet."

Spike was rolled onto his back, hands supporting him. He blinked his eyes open, the image in front of him clearing to reveal the face accompanying the voice of his rescuer.

Oh. Hey. He didn’t think it was right or fair for his rescuer to be that good-looking.

He was so distracted he missed what the officer said next. The man leaned in, concerned, scanning Spike from head to toe before reaching out a hand and patting his face. “Hey, you with me?”

“Yeah, sorry, just a little spaced.” He tried not to blush as blue eyes evaluated him.

“What’s your name.”

“Mike Scarlatti.”

“What kind of car do you drive, Mike?”

He rattled off the make, model and license plate and Ed relayed it through his headset. “Well, as least we know your memory is intact. What’s your cell phone number? We’ll put a trace on your phone.”

Spike gave him that too before the problem occurred to him. “Phone's GPS is encrypted. You won’t be able to trace it.”

“Encrypted?” Ed gave him a sharp look and it took effort on Spike’s part not to shiver under the man’s keen assessing gaze.

“It’s prototype software, I’m a developer.”

And just like that, the solution presented itself. He could have kicked himself for not thinking of it earlier, but the guy with the gun had already done that. His ribs were still burning as proof.

“Do you have a phone? Smartphone?”

“Don’t worry Mike, the hospital will call someone for you.”

“No, no, the car’s a prototype too. Has an autonomous system. Driverless mode. I can access it remotely, locate it. Drive it to a location of your choice or just brake, stop and lock the doors. Need a phone or a tablet with internet to access it.”

He could see the officer go from disbelief to understanding in seconds. “Boss, you get all that?” He spoke into his headset.

Ed must have received a quick reply. “Got it.” He pulled a phone from a pocket and handed it with a flourish to Spike. Spike moved to sit up.

“Whoa, buddy. Might be better to stay horizontal.” The concerned blue eyes drew his to meet them once again.

“Need to sit up and need both my hands.” Spike explained through gritted teeth as the pain surged.

“Okay, hold on, let me help.” And two strong arms were sitting him up. The officer went a step further, moving behind Spike and propping him up against him, Spike’s back to his chest.

“How the head?”

“Woozy.” Spike said, struggling to focus on the screen in front of him.

“Maybe you could talk me through it?” The other man suggested.

“Not unless you have all day. I have to break through my own firewall.”

“How long’s that going to take?” The first hint of doubt surfaced in the officer’s voice.

“Three minutes forty two seconds at last count. Might be a bit of a lag with the wooziness.” Spike replied, before getting to work. He tried not to get distracted by the arms around him though they, in turn, were a welcome distraction from the pain.

“Okay, I’m in. Accessing the cars GPS now.” He read off the GPS coordinates to Ed, who relayed them on, then he focused on accessing the cars controls.

Ed was peering over his shoulder as Spike accessed the car's camera feeds. “Do you have an email I could send this link to? You'll be able to follow his route through GPS and watch in real time where he’s driving and decide if its safe to stop him.”

Ed gave him an address and he sent on the links to all of the car’s cameras.

“Hold on, my boss wants to talk to you.”

Ed placed a headset on Spike’s head and there was suddenly a voice in his ear, calm and friendly. “Mr. Scarlatti, my name is Sergeant Greg Parker. I hope you’re holding up okay. Our subject seems to be staying off the main roads so we’d like to let him keep driving until we have cars in position around him and then stop him. How long will it take you to access the remote drive controls?”

“I can access the controls now. The switch from manual to remote takes less than ten seconds and I can gradually slow the car down or bring it to an emergency stop; whichever you’d prefer.” His hours playing with the car on the practice tracks suddenly didn't seemed wasted.

“Okay, great. On my signal, I want you to roll the car to a stop. Can you lock the doors?”

“Sure, but he can override that from inside.”

“But not the remote driving?”

“Yeah, but only if you know what you’re doing.”

There was some cross-talk between the officers before the Sergeant spoke to him again. “Now, please, Mr. Scarlatti. Slow the car to a stop and lock the doors. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Spike did as instructed, waiting with baited breath to hear the outcome. It wasn’t long in coming. “Subject in custody.”

A few moments later, Sergeant Parker spoke to him again. “Thanks for your help Mr. Scarlatti. You’ll be pleased to hear your car is in one piece.”

“It’s Mike and I’m glad I could help.” Spike let his intense focus ease and sagged back into the arms holding him. He’d forgotten where he was until a low voice spoke in his ear. “Great job, buddy. Ambulance is here, you’ve earned a rest and a nice ride to the hospital.”

Spike groaned. “All this for a run in the forest. I knew it was a bad idea.”

“How’s that?” Ed asked.

“My people have a poor track record with forests.”

“Your people?”

“Romans. When we fought battles in woods, we almost always lost.”

That surprised a laugh from Ed. “Italian huh? I should’ve guessed.”

“Officer?” Another voice joined the conversation.

“Pistol whip to the head and a kick to the ribs. Probably got a concussion, maybe a fractured rib or two.” And none of that sounded pleasant.

The paramedics took over.

“These guys will take good care of you. Thanks for your help, Mike.” Ed said, squeezing his shoulder for the briefest of moments, and then he was gone.


	2. For the Count

Ed got a ride with Greg back to the station. After a few sideways glances, Greg asked straight out what was on Ed’s mind.

“You should’ve seen that guy, Greg. Concussed and clinging to consciousness and he’s hacking into his own car from the screen of a phone.”

“He really impressed you, huh?”

“Why can’t we get that kind of person in the SRU?”

“Doesn’t pay enough. You know that. Someone that talented gets poached right out of high school these days.”

“It’s not just the technical talent I’m talking about, it’s that resilience to keep going and not just lie down and give in.” The passion in Ed’s voice came through strongly and he could see Greg was a little taken aback.

“Yeah, you’re right, that kind of quality is hard to find.”

***

The debrief was straightforward, the team dispersing quickly afterwards. As Ed was heading from the briefing room, Greg called him back.

“He was taken to Mount Sinai, if you’re thinking of paying him a visit.” Greg was giving him a knowing look.

“Am I really that transparent?”

“You didn’t stop talking about the guy the whole drive back.”

It was hard to argue with the truth. So he simply smiled and nodded. “See you tomorrow, Greg.”

“Not if I see you first.”

***

He thought about stopping off and buying something, struggling to decide what to get. He settled for grapes because who didn’t like grapes?

Striding confidently into the hospital, he quickly charmed the ward and room number out of the receptionist.

The nursing manager was a little harder to get past. Reading the man correctly, Ed flashed his badge instead of his smile, gave a brief explanation, and the nurse reluctantly capitulated. “Make it a quick visit. Mr. Scarlatti needs to rest.”

Mike was in a single room, sitting up in bed, propped up by pillows. His head was turned away from the door so Ed knocked to get his attention.

He turned at the sound and Ed was surprised to see he was getting oxygen through nasal prongs. Frowning, he stepped into the room, taking a closer look at the injured man.

“Officer Lane?” Mike sounded surprised, and in pain.

As he moved closer, Ed saw another tube on Mike's far side, coming out of the covers at chest level and snaking down under the bed.

“Pneumothorax?” he asked. It wasn’t that uncommon with a rib injury, air leaking into the lining around the lung causing it to collapse.

“Hemothorax. Blood instead of air.” Mike replied with a sigh, leaning heavily back against the pillows, discomfort on his face.

“Sorry, all that hauling you around probably didn’t help.”

Mike waved off his apology. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“I should probably let you rest.” He took a step backwards towards the door.

“No, stay, please. I could use the distraction.”

“You in pain?”

Mike tried to shrug before thinking better of it. “Yeah, they gave me something but it hasn’t kicked in yet.”

Ed pulled a chair over beside the bed.

“How’s your head?”

“Better than my ribs.” The last was accompanied by a pained cough.

“So I got you some grapes.” He tried to take Mike’s focus off the pain.

“Hey! I love grapes. Thanks.” The other man’s smile was infectious and Ed couldn’t help but smile back.

“So I’m afraid I have some bad news about your phone. Tech guys were processing it for evidence and apparently it’s dead as a doornail.”

For a tech geek, Mike didn’t look fazed at the news. “’s okay. Just doin’ what it’s supposed to.” He was starting to slur his words a little.

“How’d you mean?”

“Unauthorised access and the phone ‘ploads its data to a secure clu..cloud server and bricks itself.” The question seemed to make Spike more alert. “I get a new phone, download the data, and it’s like the old phone reincarnated. Jesus phone. Doesn’t take three days either…” He’d begun to ramble, frowning to himself as he spoke.

He tried to sit up, drawing a pained gasp from his lips.

“Buddy, settle down. You need to rest.” Ed moved to his side and helped lower him back down onto the bed. “Is there someone I can call for you?”

“No, M’ an..and Pa are gone home to Italy. ‘s just me right now.”

“Okay, don’t worry about it. Just rest now.”

He slipped his hand into the other man’s. “Shouldn’ta run in the woods. ‘S the trees. E’vil trees.” He slurred. “Don’ let them get me.” Tired brown eyes pleaded with him.

“I won’t.” He promised, as the younger man’s eyes drifted closed. He smoothed the dark unruly hair off his forehead before catching himself. It wouldn’t do to get attached. He didn’t _do_ attached.

***

Spike had a rough night, between the pain, the odd bubbling sound of the drain in his chest and the nurses waking him to check ‘neuro obs’, whatever they were. They seemed to mostly amount to them asking him annoying questions and shining a light in his eyes.

Things got better in the morning when work couriered him a new phone and his tablet. They’d even thrown in a get-well soon card, which the nurse insisted on placing on the bedside locker.

Spike’s streak of luck continued when his team of doctors arrived.

“So your head’s in better shape than your ribs but all and all, I’d say you got off lightly.” The dark-haired woman smiled at him. “Your hemothorax was small, we almost could have gotten away without the drain but it has done its job and we should be able to take it out this morning. We’ll xray you again later this afternoon and, all going well, you’ll be home by this evening.”

“Sounds great, doc. Thanks.” Spike replied.

He got his phone back in operation and went to work on his firewall. He worked steadily through the morning and afternoon, the only interruption being the arrival of two officers to take his statement. He was relieved when they left and allowed him to get back to work. It was equal parts distraction from the pain and from the fuzzy memory of Officer Lane’s visit the previous night. He had the sense he’d made a fool of himself but couldn’t quite recall the details. He hoped he hadn’t said anything about his past experience with the police…

A knock on the door pulled his attention away and he looked up to see the officer in question outside his room.

“You’re back.” And no, his heart did not just flip at the sight of the man in uniform.

“Hi Mike, you’re looking better.” He grinned at Spike.

“Um, hi Officer Lane.”

“Ed is fine. How are you feeling?”

“Much better now all the tubes are out.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

He had ambled into the room as he spoke, and his attention caught on the card sitting on Spike’s locker. He picked it up and read it.

Spike mentally winced, imagining what the officer would think of the coding joke his colleague had written inside. He was expecting a question on what it meant and was taken aback when instead Ed asked. “Why Spike?”

“Uh, a few years ago my hair was kind of…” he gestured with his hand. “and the name stuck.”

“I like it.”

“Yeah?” Spike asked, unable to help the flirtatious tone to his voice.

“Yeah.” Ed nodded, leaning towards him, bracing his arm on the bed next to Spike, hand just brushing Spike’s thigh.

They were interrupted by the arrival of a nurse to check Spike’s vitals. She seemed to stay an interminable amount of time but was paying a lot more attention to Ed than she was to her patient. But Ed… Ed didn’t even seem to notice, attention fully on Spike. Finally, she left.

“So Spike.” Ed said, as if testing how the name rolled off his tongue. “This your new phone?” He plucked it off the locker.

“Yeah.”

“That a fingerprint reader?”

“Uh-huh.” Spike was getting less verbal the longer Ed was in the room.

“Give me your hand.” The commanding tone Spike remembered from yesterday was back. He hid the shiver it provoked.

“What are you…”

“Come on, give me your hand. Won’t hurt, I promise.” The tone changed to cajoling.

Sighing, Spike held out his hand and Ed’s closed over it, guiding his finger to the reader. He brushed Spike’s finger against it, the lightest of touches. The screen brightened but stayed locked.

“No good, huh?” Ed asked, voice low.

“Two part authentication. Needs a password and fingerprint or voice command.”

“So tell it to unlock.”

The slightest hint of suspicion rose in Spike’s mind. What did the cop know? Had he run a background check?

“Why?” He tried to make it sound innocent but knew he’d failed when the officer’s eyes narrowed and he let go of Spike’s hand.

“Alright, keep your trade secrets. Here.” He grinned again and handed Spike’s phone back with one hand, while pulling his own out with the other and handing it over too. The tension eased from Spike’s shoulders.

“Send yourself a text. I’d like your number. You can have mine.”

“You’re kind of demanding.” Spike pointed out.

“I’m SRU. We get what we want.”

Oh. Spike had known he was something. Had to be with the uniform and tac vest. He’d thought SWAT maybe. SRU was… both enticing and intimidating. Those guys were the best. Psychological profiling, elite tactical training, the works. And _he_ wanted _Spike’s_ number.

“I was thinking we could meet for coffee when you’re feeling better.” And now he was asking Spike out.

Spike so desperately wanted to say yes but knew it was a fool’s game. He flushed, unable to meet Ed’s intense gaze.

The confidence of the officer’s voice faltered.

“Spike, buddy, if I’ve read this wrong…”

He looked up, seeing Ed’s face war between embarrassment and disappointment. “No, I… I just have a rule, about not dating cops.”

He took the proffered phone and input his number. “But I’m flattered.” The last bit came out wrong and he winced at how his voice sounded.

“Sure, I guess I understand. I can see how with your kind of mind someone like me must seen like a neanderthal…” Ed plucked his phone from Spike’s hand and turned to leave.

“No, no, that’s not what I…” He was suddenly desperate to correct the misunderstanding. “I mean you’re _Strategic Response Unit_. The best of the best. People would line up round the block to go for coffee with you.”

Blue eyes turned back to meet his, listening cautiously. “It’s nothing personal. I had a bad experience…” He left it at that.

Ed nodded slowly. “Sure. I understand. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t, at least, not in a bad way.”

That earned him another grin. “Right, I’d better get going.” He jerked his head towards the door.

“Sure, thanks for dropping by.” The words left Spike’s mouth reluctantly when what he really wanted to say was _stay_.

And then Ed was gone and Spike was alone again. He lay back on the bed, mentally kicking himself at the opportunity he’d just let walk out the door. But there was too much of a history there and it was a path he didn’t want to walk back down.

He forced himself to pick up his tablet and get back to work, resolving to put the officer out of his head.

The resolve lasted all of ninety seconds. His phone beeped, a message appearing on the screen.

_Every good rule has its exception. Call me. Ed._

And the first chink appeared in Spike's armour.


	3. The Shadows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the constant summary shifts. I hadn't quite pinned down the direction of the story until this chapter. Warning for non-graphic violence.

It was a good morning. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and though he hadn’t heard back from one Mike Scarlatti, he confident he would.

“Morning Wordy.” He called as he got into the car next to him.

“Morning. Someone’s in a good mood today.” Wordy raised a quizzical eyebrow.

“Having a good morning is all.”

They drove in silence for a while, the radio playing in the background.

“So Ed, an old buddy of mine gave me a call last night. A head’s up. He heard about our call the other day in the woods and...” Wordy paused as the road took his attention.

“And what Wordy, come on, the suspense is killing me.” Ed joked.

“It’s about that civilian who helped us. Mike Scarlatti.” And _that_ peaked Ed’s interest alright.

“What about him?”

“He used to be a cop. He was kicked off the force in his first year. Rumour has it he narrowly avoided being prosecuted.”

***

Ed was turning what Wordy had told him over and over in his mind. It both fit and didn’t fit what little he knew about Mike “Spike” Scarlatti. Brilliant and resilient. And, apparently, corrupt.

He talked it over with Greg before their morning briefing. “Leave it with me, Ed. I’ll make a few enquiries.”

Something must have shown in Ed’s face, Greg's hand squeezing his shoulder. “Plenty more fish in the sea, Ed. Maybe let this one go?”

“I think he may be one of a kind but maybe not the right kind.” Ed agreed.

***

Spike’s first few days out of hospital were a blur of pains meds and sleep with occasional forays as far as the bathroom or kitchen. He took a taxi to work on the fourth day, too bored at home. The fifth day he drove himself. The whole time Ed Lane’s text was burning a hole in his phone but he’d resisted the temptation to reply.

He was driving home that night when the trouble happened. It was much later than he’d intended and the roads were quiet. A car, giving all the appearance of tailing him and putting Spike on alert, was suddenly flashing blue lights and pulling him over.

He kept his hands carefully on the wheel as two men got out and one approached the driver's side of his car. The Officer gestured and Spike rolled down his window. He was expecting to be asked for his license and registration, so the Officer’s terse “Step out of the car, sir.” took him by surprise. He got out slowly, keeping his hands visible, very aware that the situation was likely not what it seemed.

“Turn around and face the vehicle. Hands behind your back.” He moved carefully. Too much so for the Officer’s liking, a shove between his shoulder blades knocking him forward against the car, while his arms were wrenched behind his back.

He heard the familiar clink of handcuffs before they tightly encircled his wrists, then he was yanked back and marched around the car to where the other Officer waited. When he saw who it was, his heart sank.

“Detective Bradley.” He greeted, failing the hide the resignation in his voice. Here was a man he’d hoped never to encounter again.

“It’s _Sergeant_ Bradley now, Mr. Scarlatti. And here I thought we had an understanding.” His tone was bland and understated but the sharp jab of his fist connecting with Spike’s abdomen was anything but. Spike let out a sharp grunt. He’d have doubled over if not for the hands holding him upright.

“But then I hear _your_ name on one of the department tech’s lips. You buddying up with SRU? Do you think that’s wise?”

A second blow to his stomach emphasised the point and he gasped for enough breath to speak.

“Wasn’t… my fault. Their subject… stole… my car.” Each word forced out through choked breaths.

“If it was that simple, than why was their Sergeant making enquiries about you with your old CO?”

Spike couldn’t do more than shake his head. He knew nothing he could say in his defence would stop this. Bradley knew how to mete out punishment when he thought he'd been disobeyed.

A kick to the back of his legs brought him to his knees, before a blow to the face sent him sprawling on the ground.

A hand gripped the back of his shirt and lifted him from the ground so he was face to face with the Sergeant.

“You keep your mouth shut, you keep away from the SRU or you’ll be in for a world of pain. Your family too. Understand?”

Spike nodded frantically. The hand holding his shirt let go and he dropped to the ground, groaning as the sharp kick of a foot made contact with his side. The handcuffs were removed and footsteps retreated before a car engine sprung to life and drove away.

Time ticked by, cold seeping in through every pore of Spike's skin. He got his hands under him, pushed himself to his knees and then to his feet before stumbling to his car. The drive home was a blur of pain and he made it as far as the couch before passing out.

***

“It’s not adding up, Eddie.” Greg’s proclamation came out of the blue as they finished the paperwork on their latest call.

“What’s that?” He asked.

“Mike Scarlatti. I got a copy of his training and employment records. He was the model student, great scores, great attitude. First six months on the job, he’s getting glowing reports from his training officer. Training officer takes a bullet to the knee while on an overtime shift without his rookie, ends up on a desk job, Officer Scarlatti changes training officers. Things are bumpy for the next two or so months and then they take a nosedive. Steadily worse evaluations and then some allegations surface of mishandling of contraband from a drug take. He’s discharged based on his evaluations and they don’t pursue an internal investigation.”

“He ever have a positive drug screen?” A drug habit would be the simplest explanation for a marked change in attitude.

“Never.”

Ed put down his pen.

“The call is over. He’s not our problem anymore.”

“He didn’t text you back, I take it?”

“Hardly a surprise given what you’ve just told me. He said he’d had a bad experience with cops, I assumed he meant an old boyfriend, not an old career.”

“Maybe you should pay him a visit?”

“Now why would I do that?” Ed was genuinely perplexed.

“I haven’t seen you this taken by anyone since Sophie. And she’s been gone a long time.”

“So you think a corrupt, drug-addicted disgraced cop is a good next step?”

“I think _that_ guy wouldn’t have the job that Mike Scarlatti has. I think _that_ guy is a work of fiction. Just can’t figure out why.”

“So what you’re saying is you’re sending me in to assuage your own curiosity?”

“You’ve been distracted these past few days. I think you need to put this to bed, one way or another.” Greg replied, turning his attention back to the work at hand.

***

It was light out when Spike woke, still lying on the couch. He groaned as he sat up, his body one big bruise. He stumbled to the bathroom, grimacing at the pain and at the red-tinged pee that told him his kidneys had taken a battering. The mirror reflected his bruised face and he lifted his shirt to take in the damage to his abdomen, tracing the bruises lightly with his fingertips. Ouch. He was starting to wish he’d kept his mouth shut and not helped the SRU find his car. Clearly it had inspired more curiosity about him that he’d anticipated.

He contacted work, warning them not to expect him for a day or two and decided to take some pills and go to bed for the rest of the day. A knock on the door as he passed through the living room had him pause. Had he reached the basement stairs he’d probably have kept going but he was only a few feet from the front door. A second knock sounded as he reached it.

“Who is it?” he called, hoping it wasn’t his ‘friend’ Bradley.

“It’s Ed Lane.” Came the reply.

And now Spike was stuck in a conundrum.

“Something you need, Officer Lane?”

“A word with you.”

“What about?”

“This would be a lot easier to do face to face.”

Spike groaned under his breath and let his forehead rest against the door. He was so not up for this.

“Now’s not really a good time.” He knew he was fighting a losing battle.

“Won’t take long.” The answer was short and clipped and followed quickly by “you know they teach us how to pick locks at the SRU, right?”

Heaving a long sigh, Spike reached out and opened the door, walking away from it and back towards the couch. This wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have standing up.

He heard the door close behind him and footsteps follow him.

“How’s the recovery going? You’re still moving pretty stiffly.”

Which was true, Spike knew, as he lowered himself gingerly onto the seat.

Ed took the chair across from him and Spike finally lifted his head and met the Officer’s eyes.

The change in Ed’s facial expression was almost comical. Serious to shocked. In the blink of an eye he was on his feet and crouching next to Spike.

“Damn. What the hell happened?” His voice was soft, concerned. His hand reached for Spike’s face and instinctively Spike turned away.

“Easy buddy, let me take a look.” His fingers gripped Spike’s chin gently and turned his head back, tilting it this way and that to get a better look.

“Spike. Talk to me.”

“Nothing to talk about.” He responded defensively. “This isn’t your problem.”

“You’ve been assaulted. I’m a cop. This is _exactly_ the kind of problem I deal with.”

“I don’t _need_ you to deal with it. I’d like you to leave.” Spike kept his voice cold as he struggled to his feet. He needed Ed gone before this got any worse. Before Bradley realised he was here.

“Let me help you.” He was surprised at the pleading tone in Ed’s voice.

“If you want to help then back off, and ask your Sergeant to stop digging up my past.”

There was a shocked silence.

“Are you saying you took a beating because my Sergeant ran a background check on you?”

Spike stayed sullenly silent, hoping the Officer would take the hint and go.

“Let me see the rest.” The commanding tone was back.

Spike looked up and feigned innocence. “The rest?”

“Don’t give me that. You’re moving like an old man.”

Sighing, Spike lifted his pullover and t-shirt, watching Ed’s eyes widen as he took in the marbled bruising across Spike’s abdomen.

“You get checked out?”

Spike shook his head. “It’s not that bad.”

“Like hell its not. Where are your shoes?”

He was sure in some universe that made sense but he was tired. Ed spied his shoes abandoned on the floor and grabbed them. “Sit down.” A hand on Spike’s shoulder guided him down onto the couch again and Ed started putting his shoes on.

“What are you doing?” Spike asked wearily.

“Taking you to the hospital.”

“I’m not going to the hospital.”

“We are not having a conversation about this.”

“Ed, you need to leave.” Spike pleaded softly.

Ed paused midway through lacing up Spike’s shoe. “Spike, talk to me. Help me understand what’s going on here.”

“No hospital.”

He could see Ed contemplating this. “There’s an urgent care clinic not too far from here. You need someone to throw an eye over those injuries.”

He reluctantly agreed, hoping if he got checked over it would be enough to assuage any concern and then Ed would be happy to leave Spike alone.

***

While Spike was in with the doctor, Ed called Greg.

“Hi Eddie, enjoying your day off?”

“I paid a visit to Mike Scarlatti.”

“You get the answers we were looking for?”

“No. Looks like someone else got to him first. He’s taken a beating and he’s not talking.”

There was silence on the other end before Greg spoke again. “How badly injured?”

“Bruised as hell but walking and talking. Doctor’s checking him over now. It was a fight to get him to agree to that much. Pleaded with me to leave and told me in no uncertain terms to tell you to stop digging up his past.”

“So this is something to do with whatever got him kicked off the force?” There was a mixture of surprise and worry in Greg's voice.

“Yeah, looks like we’ve opened a can of worms here Greg.” He couldn’t hide his frustration and guilt.

“What's the next move?” Greg neatly redirected him to thinking tactically.

“I was thinking I’d bring him back to my place, keep an eye on him, see if I can get him to open up.” Not that he was having any luck with that so far.

“Bring him to my place instead. I’d like to meet him in person, get a read of this situation.”

“Alright. We’ll head to yours once we’re finished here.” Ed knew he would have his hands full convincing Spike to come with him.

Ed moved back down the corridor to where Spike was being examined. The door to the exam room opened and a man in a white coat came out.

“Doctor? Officer Lane, I’m here with Mr. Scarlatti.” He flashed his badge.

“He’s good to go. I’m afraid I don’t have much for you. He refused to allow us to photograph his injuries and refused to consent to a report. I can’t say I’m surprised given the circumstances.”

“How’s that?” Ed wasn’t sure what the doctor was getting at.

“I’ve seen my fair share of wrist abrasions caused by handcuffs.” The doctor gave Ed a look that was anything but friendly. “Strange you’d take him here and not a hospital. If I see him in here again with those kind of injuries, your department will be hearing about it.”

The doctor strode away before Ed could reply. He let it go, opting instead to round up Spike before the young man got it into his head to take off. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to.


	4. Of a Doubt

Bullying Spike into coming to Greg’s house was easier than it should have been when Ed laid out the ultimatum that either they went there or Ed took him to the nearest police station to file a report.

Spike was glaring and silent on the journey though the lines of pain in his face had eased with the pain relief the doctor had given him. He’d refused stronger medication. Ed could understand why he’d want all his faculties about him.

It was just after lunch when they pulled into Greg’s driveway. Spike got out of the car without prompting but seemed apprehensive as they approached the house. Greg met them at the door.

“Come on in.”

Ed led the way, Spike following. He made a beeline for the living room, sitting down on the couch. Spike took a seat next to him, which gave Ed just the slightest hope that things between them weren’t as damaged as he thought. But then it might have been a case of the devil you know versus the one you don’t. And given the suspicious way Spike was eyeing Greg, that seemed more likely.

“Mr. Scarlatti, it’s nice to meet you in person finally. Greg Parker, we spoke on the radio the other day.” Greg held a hand out and Spike shook it with reluctance.

Greg angled the other chair so it was facing them and took a seat.

“Sergeant Parker, I really don’t know what I’m doing here. I just want to go home.”

“You can call me Greg, if you don’t mind my calling you Spike.” “If you want, sure.” Came the cautious reply.

***

Greg was skilled at reading body language at a glance and Spike’s was hitting alarm bells. Tense, contained, wary. Threat level yellow.

So he sat back, crossed his legs and did his best to appear relaxed.

“Tell me Spike, which one is the real you?”

That got the younger man’s attention, brows quirking upwards.

“What do you mean?” Spike's guarded instinct gave way to some bewilderment.

“Well, are you the Mike Scarlatti who surpassed expectations at the academy, got great reports from his training officer and when he moved to the private sector, excelled in the company that headhunted him. Or are you the disgraced officer who defied his superior officers, was sloppy at his job and stole from the take at a drugs bust.”

Spike seemed momentarily taken aback at the breadth of Greg’s knowledge before the guarded look returned.

“What difference does it make?”

“This morning, when it was simply a matter of curiosity on behalf of a friend, I’d have said not a lot. But looking at you right now, I’d say it’s probably a very important question to be answered here.”

“You’ll believe what you want to believe, people always do.”

There was something very jaded in Spike’s tone and it tugged uncomfortably at Greg. He shifted forward, clasping his hands together.

“The man I spoke to on the radio the other day. He was definitely the former. And that was you, right?”

“Right. Look, is there a point to this?” There was an edge to Spike's voice.

“We seem to have gotten you into some trouble. I’m not sure how or why but I want to put a stop to it.”

“Well that’s easy. _Back off_ and leave me and my past alone.”

The fiery response from the up til now subdued man took Greg by surprise. He was starting to see what it was that had caught Ed’s attention.

“The doctor said you’d been handcuffed recently. Care to shed any light on _that_?” Ed interjected, matching the energy of Spike’s response, without the anger.

Spike looked alarmed. He hadn’t known that was information Ed had. Greg decided some reassurance was in order.

“Spike. You’re safe here. We just want to make sure you stay that way. We need to know where the danger is coming from.”

“I’m not _telling_ you that. I’m not _talking_ about this.” The fire was back, Spike’s words insistent. But he _was_ talking at least.

“Did someone tell you not to talk to us?” Greg already had a good idea of the answer, it was Spike’s non-verbal reaction to the question he was hoping to read. He wasn’t disappointed. Spike broke eye contact and his body tensed.

“Why would anyone do that?” The lightness of his tone was at odds with his body language. 

“I was hoping you’d tell us.” Greg replied genially. Spike remained silent.

“Give us a name, Spike. Tell us who did this to you.” Ed demanded and it shifted the tone of the conversation.

“I don’t know you.” Spike said slowly, emphasising each word.

“Yeah, you’re right. You don’t.” Greg realised they weren’t going to get the answers they were looking for. The beating wasn’t just a warning, it was a _reminder_ and whatever had happened before, Spike had not forgotten it.

“So if we back off and leave you alone, this problem of yours will go away?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” Spike’s answer was too quick, pitch just a little high. He didn’t believe what he’d just told them.

“Burying your head in the sand isn’t the way to handle these kinds of situations.” Greg pressed gently, waiting to see the other man’s reaction. “They have a way of burying themselves right there with you. You come up for air, they pounce.”

“And _you_ don’t know _me_ , either.” Was Spike’s clipped response.

“So you haven’t just been hiding from this these past few years? You’ve planned for this?”

“This… _this_ wasn’t supposed to happen.” And Greg saw what was underneath Spike’s anger and bravado. Just plain old fear.

“Spike, I don’t understand.” Ed said, leaning towards him, open and receptive. And _that_ was interesting. Spike _responded_ to him, _instinctively_.

“I did what I was told. Kept my mouth shut. Kept off their radar. They were supposed to forget about me, but you… you…”

“We asked questions and they, whoever they are, got antsy.” Greg finished.

“So give us names Spike. You can make a statement, we can act on this.” Ed said.

Spike gave him a look that was anything but friendly. “You keep saying that. Did they send you, is that what this is about? You can tell them I’m not stupid, I’m keeping quiet.”

The suspicion was back, Spike looking from him to Ed as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“No one sent us.” Greg replied calmly. “You want to know why we’re here? One of the department techs recognised your name and a teammate got a call about you, just a head’s up that you were a former cop. I knew Ed had asked you out, so I thought I’d better check into your background. Ed and I go way back, and we’ve always been close. The story I got back did not add up, so I told Ed to go talk to you. Only my actions had already had some repercussions I hadn’t been expecting. Ed brought you here at my request because I wanted to know what was going on.”

He gave Spike a minute to weigh up what they were telling him. His response was another attempt to block them.

“I’m not going to talk.”

So Greg changed tack and did something he usually avoided. He provoked a reaction.

“That’s okay. Right now I don’t need you to. I’ve a fair idea where to look for the answers I need. I’ll start with your old training officer. What was his name? Jason Holby, wasn’t it?”

Spike’s eyes widened, skin going pale beneath the purple bruising on his face. He jerked forward, a pained grimace crossing his face as he spoke “You can’t, please, they’ll… they’ll hurt my family…”.

Greg stood and crossed the distance to where Spike was struggling to stand, as Ed sprang from his seat, reaching for him.

“It’s okay Spike, it’s okay. Sit back down.” Ed’s hand on Spike’s shoulder guided the young man back to his seat.

Greg crouched down so they were face to face, holding steady eye contact. “Spike, listen to me. We won’t do anything that might put your family in danger, I promise. We just needed to understand the threat, that’s all. I had to push a few of your buttons. I'm sorry for that. Are you with me?”

Spike nodded shakily in reply, taking a few deep breaths, and glaring from Ed to Greg again.

“Sit here a minute, I’ll get you some water. Ed, join me in the kitchen when you’re ready.”

***

Greg pulled a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, letting it sit on the sideboard as he waited for Ed. Clouds were gathering on the horizon, as if mimicking the events inside the house.

“What the hell kind of crap was that you just pulled?” Ed’s voice was no less angry for being quiet.

Greg turned to face him. “We needed to know.”

“And what, the best negotiator on the force couldn’t figure out a better way to do it?”

“You think he’s stupid enough to fall for the usual tactics? He deflected everything I tried in there. We needed to know how serious this was and we got our answer. Now we can protect him.”

“He doesn’t want our protection. He wants to call a cab and get out of here.” Clearly the few minutes of conversation he’d left them to hadn’t gone well.

“Think he’s safe at home?”

“If we’re right and they’re on the job, then they probably won’t target him at home. They'll probably wait til he’s in transit, on his way to work or on his way back. Or maybe try to lure him somewhere.”

“Could he work from home for a while?”

“That’s one option, I guess.” Ed rubbed his chin in contemplation.

“What were you thinking?”

“We relocate him temporarily. His parents are away right now, he’s alone. It’s still too inviting an opportunity. Let’s put him somewhere they won’t look for him.”

“You’ve visited him and I’ve asked his old department head about him. I think hiding him here or at your place might be a little conspicuous.”

“That’s not where I was thinking…”

***

Spike rebuffed Ed’s attempts to talk to him. He’d had enough, it was time to go. The older man got the message and headed towards what Spike assumed was the kitchen. He waited all of ten seconds before pulling himself to his feet and going as close to the kitchen door as he dared. Leaning heavily against the wall, he closed his eyes and listened.

They were talking about moving him to keep him safe. Him staying not with Ed or Greg, like he’d have expected, but with someone called Sam. They hadn’t mentioned a Sam before.

Ed suggested it and Sergeant Parker seemed to think it was a good idea.

Spike knew he didn’t have long to decide whether he trusted these men. Right now they appeared to be going to a lot of trouble to secure his safety and he wasn’t sure why. They felt responsible for the fact he’d been injured, that much was clear. It was their next words that gave him pause.

“I’m starting to get what you see in him. He’s…”

“Magnetic. From the moment he got to work on my phone, totally focused like it was the only thing that mattered.”

“And here he is today, intent on giving us nothing to go on, protecting his family. Braver men have crumbled being tag teamed by us. Do you think he…”

There was something wistful in Greg’s tone that Spike didn’t understand.

“See. I told you. Magnetic. And we’re made of iron.”

Greg have a small huff of laughter. “A conversation for another time maybe. So, the plan. Do you want to call Sam or will I?”

“Might be better coming from you. I want him to make a choice rather than assume it’s an order and throw a ‘yes, sir’ in my direction.

“Alright. You’ll brief Spike?”

“Sure.” Came the easy reply before he raised his voice slightly. “Spike, you willing to stay with our teammate Sam for a few days?”

And Spike should have known. “I heard you SRU guys have sonar. Like bats. I guess the rumours are true.”

Ed appeared at the kitchen door, glass of water in his hand. “Let’s get you back to the couch before the weight of that wall you’re propping up overcomes you.”

Spike didn’t rise to the bait but let Ed take his arm and help him back into the living room. “Who’s Sam?” He couldn’t hide a yawn as he asked the question.

“Sam Braddock. He’s ex-army special forces. JTF2. Joined the SRU recently. I think you and he will get on just fine.”


	5. Doubting Thomas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is twice as long as normal because it took a while to get where it was going. But it got there, sort of. 
> 
> For SoupShue, my awesome, reckless encourager of plotbunnies.

Greg rejoined them in the living room once he got off the phone with Sam, taking a moment just to watch the two men together. Ed was sitting close, body turned towards Spike. He was leaning forward, a hand on Spike’s upper back, the other on his knee.

Given how angry and evasive Spike had been, Greg didn’t think he’d accept Ed’s proximity but he seemed drawn to the older man, dark eyes watching intently as Ed spoke softly to him. Greg felt the smallest spark of jealously flicker to life inside him and dampened it down quickly.

He gave them a few minutes before he interrupted.

***

Spike found his anger and distrust seemed to fade to wary acceptance as they returned to the living room. He couldn’t hide a pained cry as sitting jostled his still healing ribs and bruises.

“Easy. Just breathe through it.” Ed leaned close, placing an arm on Spike’s back and rubbing circles to help distract from the pain. Spike, who’d been holding himself tensely for hours, found himself suddenly desperate to give in to Ed's touch, to relax and let someone else take care of the problem. He’d been carrying this with him for years, just waiting for the roof to cave in.

Ed’s other hand clasped his knee and he kept talking. The words washed over him but Spike clung to the sound of the man’s voice; that gentle, steady tone.

He met Ed’s eyes, letting himself get lost in their blue depths. Another moment, another place, another time and he’d…

A cough interrupted them, Ed’s Sergeant watching them from the doorway. Spike jerked away from Ed, putting some distance between them even as the movement pulled a hiss of discomfort from his throat.

Ed seemed torn between amusement and concern at his reaction and Spike felt his face flush.

“Alright, we need to start making plans. Spike, make a list of essentials you need from your place and I’ll collect them and bring them to Sam’s this evening. Greg will take you there now.”

Wait, what? “Not you?” Spike barely knew Ed but until an hour ago Greg had been a disembodied voice on a radio, and Sam was just a name.

“Like I said, I’m gonna swing by your place and pick up some stuff while Greg gets you settled in Sam’s apartment. I’ll be by later.”

The words ‘I just want to go home’ were on the tip of Spike’s tongue but he bit them off before he could voice them, knowing he’d sound like a petulant child.

He realised then he was still unsure whether to trust them. The conversation he’d eavesdropped on in the kitchen hadn’t suggested anything untoward but he didn’t quite trust himself at the moment. He wasn’t thinking with his head right now. Every decision he’d made since meeting Ed was suspect. He was trusting these guys because they were in positions of authority, were police officers, which was exactly the reason he shouldn’t be trusting them.

“Okay.” He said finally, reaffirming his decision to go along with their plan. For now. He wasn’t an invalid or an idiot. If he thought of a better plan or things didn’t seem to be what they purported to be, he’d get himself out of the situation. He’d gotten out of worse.

***

It wasn’t until he was sitting next to Greg in the car that the reality of it all started to sink in. He needed space to think but he was trapped between a rock and a hard place.

“Does anyone know the truth about what happened? Your parents? Maybe your first training officer?”

Greg was good at that. The careful, almost innocuous questions. He must have been hoping Spike would let something slip about the trouble he was in.

“My parents were never happy with my career aspirations, my Dad especially. They didn’t really care why I left so long as I wasn’t putting my life at risk anymore.” Spike kept his eyes on the streets as they drove. “Mac tried to contact me but I didn’t want to heap any more trouble on him after everything he had going on so I just cut contact.”

“What about your other colleagues, friends you made in the academy?”

Spike let his shoulders rise and fall. “Most of them dropped off the radar once Holby started bad-mouthing me.”

“They boxed you off, isolated you and turned people against you.”

It was a statement more than a question so Spike didn’t answer, knowing the other man was probably picking up far more information than he thought he was giving.

“It’s a common tactic when you want to force someone out. It usually works pretty well too. What, were you more stubborn than they’d bargained for?”

“Inflated sense of right and wrong. Couldn’t just walk away once I knew…” he stopped himself just in time. Or not quite.

“Once you knew they weren’t on the straight and narrow.”

Spike held himself still, hoping not to give anything away with his body language.

Greg pulled the car over and stopped, turning in his seat to look at Spike and waiting until the other man made eye contact.

“Here’s what I know Spike, from the very little you’ve told us and the circumstances of the past few days. You found out something back all those years ago. Maybe something your training officer was doing or one of your colleagues. And you’re a smart guy, so you probably asked a few careful questions and maybe even got some explanations. But I’d bet you knew something wasn't quite right so you kept digging. I’d say that made people nervous, maybe even pissed off a few people. So the bullying started, the walling off. But you’re tenacious and you’re not a quitter so you held fast. They got worried so they started planning to frame you, make it look like you were stealing from drug takes. You caught on, wised up and didn't contest your dismissal. That about sum it up?”

All Spike could think was that SRU didn’t do half-measures when it came to psychological profiling.

“We can help you Spike, if you let us. And we can keep you safe while this is handled.” Greg assured him confidently as he pulled back out onto the road. The rest of the journey continued in silence, the older man letting Spike chew on his thoughts.

They pulled in beside an apartment building and Spike pointed out the one big flaw in this whole plan.

“I don’t have enough evidence yet.”

***

Greg could have kicked himself for not paying more attention to his own profile and even Spike’s own words to describe himself. Tenacious, resilient, strong moral sense of right and wrong and not one to give up in the face of adversity.

“You’ve been gathering evidence?”

“Since before I left. When I saw what was coming, with the drugs allegation, I realised they’d shut me up one way or another so I beat a strategic retreat. I passed on the evidence I had but it went nowhere.”

“Tell me something Spike. What were you career plans, before all this happened?” Now Greg had to know. There was no way someone like Spike was planning for a career walking the beat. He had been going places.

“I kind of have a thing for explosives.” Spike said eventually, looking discomfited.

“So you were aiming for the bomb squad?” Greg asked, feeling just a hint of disappointment at the answer.

If anything, Spike grew more uncomfortable, looking anywhere but at Greg. “Maybe. I was hoping for something a little more rounded but where I’d be able to have my own specialisation. I… get bored easily.”

And that Greg was sure of. The source of Spike’s discomfort also became obvious. “SRU, huh?”

“It was a pipe-dream from the start. And my father would never have forgiven me.” A long-running dispute, Greg guessed, the bitterness obvious in Spike’s voice.

“You know what Eddie said to me the day he met you?”

There was a flicker of interest in the other man’s guarded expression.

“He asked me why we couldn’t get someone like you in the SRU.”

Spike shook his head. “Come on, you can’t be telling me SRU struggles to recruit. You have hundreds of applications for every position.”

“Sure, we get hundreds of good applicants. But we need the best of the best. And we’re losing them to the private sector, to better pay and better lifestyles.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to compete against a six-figure salary, extra vacation days, weekends off, time to work on personal projects. But I’d trade it all in a heartbeat to do something truly challenging, something that really makes a difference.”

He leaned back in his seat and turned his head towards Greg, whose breath caught as he met Spike’s expressive eyes. He swallowed hard before he spoke again.

“Now that I’ve met you, I see what it is Eddie saw in you. You are one of a kind.”

It was Spike’s turn to swallow, adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “How close… are you and Ed?”

“That’s… that’s a complicated question and a conversation for another time. Right now there are more important things to concern ourselves with.”

***

Greg led him up to Sam’s apartment, introducing Spike and getting him settled on the couch. He left with a parting. “Ed will be by later with your stuff.”

Spike sat awkwardly on Sam Braddock’s couch while the blond man eyed him with uncertainty. “Do you want an ice-pack or some tylenol or something?” He must have looked as bad as he felt.

“No, I’m okay, they already dosed me up.”

Another awkward silence followed before Sam spoke again.

“You want to watch the game?”

“Sure.” It was possibly the last thing Spike wanted to do at that moment but anything was better than them staring silently at one another. They watched for a while, until half time when Sam got them some food and offered Spike a beer.

Spike refused the beer and didn’t touch the food. It seemed to make Sam uneasy.

“Just stay until Ed gets here, okay? Greg sounded worried on the phone.”

“You’re saying you wouldn’t stop me if I tried to leave right now?” That was news to Spike.

Sam looked surprised, turning to him in consternation. “Whoa, I’m not holding you prisoner. You’re free to leave at any time. From what I hear, you’re safer where you are right now but it’s your choice.”

“Your team mate Ed hasn’t exactly been giving me a lot of choices today.”

“He’s team leader. He’s used to making the autocratic decisions.”

“Well I’m not a member of your team.” Spike snapped.

“Copy that.” Sam replied, not reacting to Spike’s anger. “Ed’s usually only this protective with team and family, y’know?”

“How _would_ I know? I’m neither, and I barely know him.”

They sat in silence for a while before Sam very obviously changed topics.

“So you developed a remote drive car, huh?”

Spike was torn between wanting to wallow in his anger and struggling to resist the urge to talk about his work, which he loved to do.

“Well I didn’t develop the hardware, we bought it off a subsidiary but I had to completely rebuild the software from the ground up. Both an autodrive and remote drive function. The company built a track to practise on so I’ve spent a half day a week and a lot of my weekends working on it. The other day was its first real road test.”

“That must have been pretty cool.”

“Yeah, if not for the concussion and potential mortal danger, I might have appreciated it more.”

There was no sting in Spike’s words, he was genuinely joking and it seemed to relax Sam a little.

“So what do you work on the rest of the time?”

“We have some defense contracts that I can’t really talk specifics about. But I mostly work on anti-explosives technology.”

That peaked the other man’s interest even more than the car.

***

Sam’s intention when he changed the topic of discussion was mainly to distract Spike long enough for Ed to arrive. He didn’t quite realise what he’d done until Spike had talked solidly for almost half an hour. Sam found him beguiling to listen to if a little overexcitable at times.

When he found out Sam was a sniper, he almost bubbled over. “I’ve been working on this sniper FPS for months now. I’d really love someone with actual experience to trial it.”

“A game?” Sam asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, kind of. It was initially going to be a programme for a remote drone sniping project but we lost the contract to someone else who could offer better hardware so I re-purposed it. I thought it might be useful from a training point of view but it’s hard to match the real life environmental variables just from sensors. You should come out and give the actual drone a try too. It’s simple enough to learn how to fly it, the controls are pretty intuitive.”

“Your company won’t mind me tagging along?”

Spike dismissed that with a wave of his hand.

“There’s a standard non-disclosure agreement you sign that says you won’t steal our stuff. You could try out the driving track too, the car is a bit more tricky to get the hang of driving remotely…”

It was like the guy hadn’t had anyone to talk to in years, he barely paused for breath. But his enthusiasm was infectious and Sam found himself excited at the prospect of trying out the gadgets Spike was describing.

It wasn’t a totally one-sided conversation either, Spike stopping to check Sam was following him and keeping to topics Sam showed an interest in. He asked some pointed questions about Sam’s army career and seemed a little starstruck at his time with JTF2 but not in the uncomfortable way Sam was used to.

Sam tried to wind things down as Spike maintained the same intensity of conversation. Nothing he tried seemed to slow Spike’s speech, the other man spilling words out like they were going extinct. Sam found himself getting progressively more distracted by Spike’s lips, his attention wandering from the young man’s words.

On impulse, having run out of ideas, he leaned over and pressed his lips to Spike’s, hard and fast, pulling back almost immediately. Spike froze mid-sentence and just looked back at him, mouth open.

“Well, that worked.” Sam said, eyebrows raised.

“I… you… what?” Spike choked out.

“Sorry.” Sam said, “I didn’t meant to…”

“No.” Spike’s voice was a little hoarse and he coughed to clear his throat. “That’s… that’s… people usually just tune out or walk away. I didn’t meant to go on and on.” His cheeks reddened and he looked away.

“I wasn’t trying to shut you up. Maybe just slow you down a little. There’s no expiry date on this conversation. You’ll be here a few days, we’ve plenty of time to talk.”

“Um… you should know that Ed asked me out for coffee.”

“Right, sorry, I wasn’t thinking.” Now it was Sam’s turn to blush.

“I’ve heard I have that effect on people, with all the talking.”

“You talk like conversation is going out of fashion.”

Spike shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of friends since I stopped being a cop.”

“You don’t have work friends?” He’d mentioned a few colleagues by name.

“They’re not friends really. Work encourages us to be competitive and there isn’t the balance like you have at academy with team work and having people’s backs. It’s kind of an every man for themselves situation. If someone can steal your idea and say they thought of it first, they will.”

Sam had always worked in an environment where your team was like a surrogate family and their job was to have your back. What Spike described sounded alien and unpleasant.

“Look I… if I’m staying, I’ll have my head buried in work most of the time. You’ll barely hear a peep out of me, I promise.”

“Hey, if you wanna talk, we can talk. About whatever you want. And maybe about some things you don’t want. Like how you got those bruises on your face.”

Sam knew it was a mistake almost before the words left his mouth.

“I’m sure your Sergeant told you.” Spike said shortly, standing up and cutting off the conversation.

“So you’re thinking you might stay?”

“I’m still trying to decide how big of a mistake I’ve made.” Spike wandered towards the window.

“What do you mean?”

“People don’t really go out on a limb for people they don’t know. Especially when everyone else is telling them they’re bad news.”

“I’m not following you.”

“So maybe Ed and your Sergeant are good guys who want to help or maybe they’re pals of people who want to be sure I’m keeping my mouth shut. If the latter is true, I’ve already said too much and this isn’t going to end well for me.”

Spike didn’t turn from the window as he spoke, lines of tension visible on his body.

“You’re still here.” Sam pointed out.

“How far do you think I’d get if I tried to run?”

“I’m not holding you prisoner, I told you.” Sam replied and, as if on cue, there was a knock on the door.

“Sam, it’s me.” Ed called.

Sam went to open it, deliberately stepping out into the corridor to speak to Ed out of Spike’s earshot.

“Sam?”

“Tell me Spike isn’t here under duress.”

“What?”

“He’s half convinced you’re working with the people who’ve got it out for him and you’re stashing him here until you figure out a way to get rid of him.”

“Let me talk to him.” Ed tried to push past Sam into the apartment. Sam stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Go easy on him Ed.”

“Kid gloves, I promise.”

***

When Sam disappeared into the corridor, it only served to heighten the uncertainty that had been bubbling away inside Spike.

Who knew how far up the chain it really went? His immediate superiors had buried his complaint and even the evidence he’d sent to the civilian police commission had never seen the light of day.

He’d scoped out the fire escape earlier and decided this was as good a time as any to make an exit. He was out the window and on the ledge when he heard the apartment door open again.

He kept moving, even though he knew he couldn’t outrun two trained SRU officers, because at least out in the open he’d be seen.

He reached the ladder and started descending, ignoring the voices calling him. Footsteps sounded on the metal platform above his head.

“Spike?” He paused as he saw Ed crouched above him, peering down. “Come on back up buddy and let’s talk about this. Take my hand.”

He looked down at the ground below and back up at Ed. There was no sign of Sam. He was probably moving to cut Spike off on once he got down.

“Spike. I know you’re scared and not sure who to trust but please hear me out before you make any rash decisions.”

“Rash decisions are all I’ve been making since I met you.” Spike replied.

“And some of that’s my fault. I’ve been treating you like a member of my team, giving you orders, expecting you to follow without question.”

Spike glanced down again, seeing Sam at the bottom of the fire escape looking up at them.

“Come on Spike. Let’s go back inside and talk. There’s no hit squad. No plan to get rid of you. I just want this situation sorted so we can have that coffee date you promised me.”

Spike saw the slightest of smiles on Ed’s face. “I didn’t promise you anything.” He groused, but climbed back up, reaching out to Ed’s proffered hand.

He was guided back inside and on to the couch.

“Are you usually this cavalier?” Ed asked, crouching next to him.

“Nope. This is the effect you have on people. What is it about you SRU guys? They giving you super-power pills or something?”

“What do you mean?” Ed was frowning at him.

“I don’t know. You asked me out on a date then you find me a little bruised up and you suddenly turn into Arnie from Terminator 2 with the “come with me if you want to live” thing and practically kidnap me. Sam’s playing it all Mr. Nice Guy “let's watch the game” when he’s this JTF2 expert sniper with a habit of kissing people who talk too much and I gotta tell you, your Sergeant is practically a telepath. He knew a lot more than I’d told him.”

Spike stopped abruptly and flopped back into the chair letting his eyes close as Sam returned to the apartment.

“He okay?”

“I don’t know. Maybe we need to get his head checked out again. He’s not making much sense.”

“I’m making perfect sense. You just don’t like what I’m saying.”

“I didn’t kidnap you. And I’m sure Sam didn’t kiss you.”

Spike groaned and buried his head in his hands, feeling himself blush to the tips of his ears. He resolutely didn’t look in Sam’s direction.

“In my defence, I didn’t know you’d asked him out.” Sam spoke, voice cracking.

“And he was just trying to shut me up. For all I know, that’s a tactic they teach in the SRU, alongside lock-picking.” Spike came to Sam’s defence too, glaring at Ed.

“Alright, okay.” Ed held his hands up, placating. “Sam didn’t know the full story. Let’s leave the kissing aside for now. Though it certainly hasn’t helped Spike’s emotional stability.” There was mild reprove in Ed’s voice and Sam looked abashed.

“Spike, the only reason we brought you here is because you’re vulnerable right now. You’re already injured, you’re home alone and we don’t know who’s doing this to you. There’s a risk we’ve set something in motion that won’t stop just because we stop asking questions. Do you see what I’m saying?”

Spike forced himself to take a long, deep breath, letting it out slowly.

“I’m sorry. I’m out of practise when it comes to trusting people, especially police officers. What you’re saying makes sense, I guess, except this isn’t a danger that’s just going to go away if we wait it out. And deviating from my routine might actually make them more suspicious and more likely to act.”

“You know, at some point you are going to have to trust us and tell us who _they_ are. Greg said you mentioned having evidence but not enough. Are you sure about that? All you really need is enough for an investigation to be opened.”

“I tried that already, when I was dismissed. I passed on everything I had anonymously to the civilian police commission. There was enough there for an investigation to be opened so I figured it was just a matter of time, they’d work out what happened, take down the guys involved and I’d be able to…”

“You’d get your job back.”

“Exactly. After six months of not hearing anything, I checked it out and… nothing. There was no record of the evidence even being submitted. I sent it in again and the same thing happened. It was never logged. So I figured I’d need enough to actually prove the case and bring it straight to a prosecutor. I’ve been working on it ever since.”

“And then our suspect pulls a gun on you and we derail your plan.” Ed finished.

“That’s life for you. No one ever said it was fair.” Spike couldn’t hide his despondence. “I’ve given up long ago on getting back on the force but I was still hoping they’d get what was coming to them.”

“They will. You’re not alone in this anymore.” Ed said, squeezing his shoulder. Spike would have liked to believe him, but a happy outcome seemed intangible; the stuff of fiction, and the throbbing of Spike’s stomach and face kept him firmly grounded in reality.


	6. Tomfoolery

Ed was in no hurry to go anywhere once they got Spike in off the fire escape.

“Sam, have you got some pain killers and maybe an ice-pack or something?”

“Sure, I’ll get them.”

“I don’t need anything.” Spike protested.

“You’re telling me you’re pain free right now? Your bodies not protesting from your bid for freedom with all those injuries?” Ed replied sceptically.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.” Ed pointed out quietly. It was true, Spike was trembling finely, whether from pain or fear or cold Ed didn’t know. That last thought had Ed pulling off his jacket and wrapping it around Spike’s shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Spike protested tiredly, trying to shirk off the jacket.

“Making sure you aren’t cold.” Ed replied, pulling the jacket tight around Spike again before resting hands on his shoulders.

“Why are you doing this?” Spike spoke to his lap, voice almost too quiet for Ed to hear.

“I told you, making sure you aren’t cold.”

“No, I mean _this_. You’re going to a lot of trouble for someone you don’t know and for what, a coffee date?”

Spike was quiet as he voiced his doubts, staring resolutely at his hands.

“And what happens when what you really want from me isn’t something I’m willing to give? I mean, you don’t seem like the kind of person to take no for an answer.”

And Ed didn’t like the implications of _that_ one bit. He tried to catch Spike’s eye but the younger man ducked his head again, face flushing.

“Spike, buddy, I need you to look at me. Come on now.” He coaxed and cajoled, then resorted to nudging Spike’s head up with one finger. A few tears had slid down Spike’s face, leaving tiny trails in their wake.

“Hey now, let’s back up a few steps, okay. Nothing is going to happen between you and me that you aren’t one hundred percent into. Whatever I might be, I am not that kind of guy.”

Spike looked away. Ed clasped his hand, exerting gentle pressure to redirect his attention.

“My helping you isn’t contingent on any coffee date or anything else for that matter. You’re a good guy who looks like he’s in some trouble. Trouble that I may have inadvertently caused, so I’m keen to keep you safe and get you out of it. Protecting people is my job, remember?”

He shifted to his feet and moved to sit next to Spike on the couch.

“If you want to go home, I won’t try and stop you. I’ll even drive you there myself. I will probably spend the night outside in my car keeping an eye on things but you’ll just have to live with that.”

Spike plucked absentmindedly at the sleeves of Ed’s jacket. He’d gone through a whirlwind of emotions in the space of a few minutes but Ed could almost see the thoughts still spinning through his head.

“What you said just now. _Did_ you have a bad experience, relationship-wise?”

Spike rubbed tiredly at his eyes, the jacket slipping off one shoulder. Ed tugged it back into place, letting his hand rest on Spike’s shoulder again.

“Well, yeah, kind of. It was a long time ago now. I’ve always had a tendency to attract more controlling personalities.” He rolled his eyes as he spoke. “I have a thing for people in authority so I guess it goes hand in hand. One guy took it too far, but it was fine. I saw the signs early, realised it wasn’t going to work and moved on, and he did the same.”

“He a cop?” He kept his tone offhand, not wanting Spike to clam up again.

“No, he wasn’t. But that’s where my not dating officers rule came from. Too much of a risk that work and play would get tangled up. I kept the rule after I was dismissed, but not for the same reasons.” The embarrassment at his admission was clear on the younger man's face.

“I get it. Thanks for telling me that Spike.” And Ed breathed a silent sigh of relief that there wasn’t something more personal underlying Spike’s current trouble.

Sam, who’d been hovering nearby not wanting to interrupt, moved forward to hand Spike a glass of water and some pills. He handed the ice-pack to Ed then left them to it. Ed held the ice-pack in his hand for a moment as Spike gulped down the water.

“Where hurts?” He asked, holding up the pack.

“Um, everywhere.” Spike mumbled, setting the glass down and eyeing the ice-pack uneasily.

“Where hurts worst?” Ed persisted.

“My ribs, I guess.” Spike admitted, gesturing vaguely to his side.

“Alright, lift your shirt.”

Spike made a face but didn’t move.

“Spike?”

“I really don’t think I need it.”

“Cough.” Ed said.

“What?” Spike frowned at him.

“You heard me. Cough.”

Spike did, gasping in pain a half-second later.

“See? Now, lift your shirt.”

“Ed…” It was a half whine.

“Sure, it’s cold and uncomfortable at the start but it’ll numb the pain and ease the muscle spasms. Come on, I’m losing the feeling in my hand here.” He jested.

“Better your hand than my chest.” Spike grumbled in reply as he lifted his shirt up, exposing the bruised, cut skin.

Ed wasted no time, pressing the pack against the worse of it. Spike hissed as it made contact, arching his back a little, but Ed held the pack firmly against him.

“I don’t get off on pain, just so you know.” Spike spoke to the ceiling, voice tight.

“Duly noted. Not my forte either, if we’re comparing notes.” Ed replied. “You know, if you keep holding yourself that tensely, the ice-pack's not going to do much good.”

Under Ed's watchful gaze, Spike forced himself to relax, sagging back against the seat. “This week is not going how I planned.”

“I know the feeling.” Ed replied. “How’s your head? Any headache, dizziness, nausea?”

“No, Ma.” Spike joked. “Stop fussing.”

“You were the one gallivanting around on fire escapes.”

“I wasn’t gallivanting. I was _escaping_.”

“Uh-huh. Sure you were.” Ed hid a smile.

“The… um… the thing with Sam.”

“Don’t sweat it.” Ed reassured, burying the jealousy that threatened to bubble to the surface. One wrong move might risk the other man running again. On the other hand…

Spike moved again, angling his body away from the ice-pack. It forced Ed to shift forward to keep the it pressed against him. “How much longer…” Spike started to ask.

“Another few minutes. Do you think you can handle that?”

Spike closed his eyes, scrunching his face up in response.

Ed leaned in close, his mouth next to Spike’s ear. “How about a distraction?”

Spike brown eyes opened, quizzical. “What did you have in mind?” He murmured back.

Ed didn’t reply, dipping his head just a little lower so his lips met the skin of Spike’s neck.

“Oh.” Spike said softly. Ed dipped his head lower, into the crease of Spike’s neck and the younger man let out a low moan. “Someone’s sensitive.” Ed whispered, feeling Spike shiver beneath him. “Been a while.” Was Spike’s equally quiet response.

“Is this okay?” Ed asked, as he kissed upwards along Spike’s throat. Spike let out a little needy sound as Ed’s mouth hit another sensitive spot. “More than okay. ‘s better than morphine.”

“Yeah?” They were eye to eye now, Ed’s mouth close to Spike’s. “Yeah.” Spike leaned forward, pressing his lips to Ed’s. Ed let him guide the pace, feeling the tension melt away in them both as Spike’s hand found his collar and tugged him closer.

There was a sound behind them and Ed didn’t need to turn around to know Sam was watching them. Spike saw him, and letting out a strangled noise, buried his head in Ed’s neck.

At little at a loss at how to handle Spike’s reaction, Ed brought his hand up to cup the back of his neck, feeling the younger man shaking, but whether it was laughter or tears he wasn’t sure.

Spike lifted his head after a minute. “Guys, what are we doing? This is just…”

“The start of something amazing or something completely crazy.” Sam supplied. And now Ed did look at him, seeing Sam’s flushed face. At first glance he might be forgiven for assuming embarrassment but Ed suspected otherwise.

Ed peeled the ice pack away, noting Spike’s wince, and tried to get some control over the situation and over his reaction. “Have you guys eaten?”

“Not recently.” Sam replied.

“Spike, you hungry?” “Um, yeah, I guess.” Spike lifted his head from Ed, looking from one man to the other.

“Any places do decent take out nearby?” Ed asked Sam.

“Sure, pizza, chinese, mexican…”

“Do you have a preference?” Ed asked Spike, who shook his head. “Okay Sam, order whatever your favourite is.”

“So we’re going to have dinner?” Spike clarified, detaching himself from Ed as Sam pulled out his phone.

“We’ll eat, plan tomorrow, then I’ll leave you and Sam to get some sleep. Unless you want me to take you home?”

Spike yawned, raising a hand in a half-hearted attempt to cover his mouth. “No, that’s okay. I’ll stay. Thanks though.”

“Alright. Good. That’s good.” And it was, Spike seeming confident he was making an actual choice this time.

Sam made quick work of ordering then sat down with them. “You should tell Ed about your sniper game. I’m sure he’d love to try it out.”

“You’re a sniper too?” And Spike’s eyes had latched onto his again, with that same intensity that had drawn him in before. “That’s right.”

“Is there anything you SRU guys don’t do?”

“Half-measures.” Ed replied with a smile.

“Yeah, I think I got that when you went all Terminator on me. Good Terminator though, not the evil one.”

Ed saw Sam smile at Spike’s joke. “Well, I’m glad we’ve made that distinction. Can’t blame you for being confused.” And he really couldn’t. The poor guy’s world kept turning on its head, inverting what should be a given. Cops are good guys. The truth keeps you safe. Do right by the world and it’ll do right by you.

It would take more than a kiss and a promise to earn Spike’s trust.


	7. A Fool's Game

Team One had a shift the next day, so they left Spike at Sam’s. He assured them he’d be fine and was well capable of keeping himself out of trouble.

The morning at headquarters was quiet, with no calls outs. Ed led them through a few drills and then they all took some time for personal training. While the others were occupied, Greg called Ed and Sam into the briefing room.

There had been an awkwardness between the two men all morning that Greg had picked up on and he decided to tackle that first.

“Does anyone want to tell me what the problem is?”

“I kissed Spike.” Ed admitted, rubbing a hand across his brow, looking uncomfortable. Greg took a moment to digest that and had just opened his mouth to reply when Sam held a hand up, looking flushed and contrite. “I kissed him too.”

The words froze on Greg’s tongue. He walked back to the door, hitting the button to seal the room then returned to face the two men. Neither could meet his eyes and it was no wonder.

“Do I need to say it?” he asked.

“Let me.” Ed interjected, looking up and meeting his gaze head on. “You’re disappointed.”

“We were irresponsible.” Sam chimed in.

“Spike is vulnerable.” Ed continued.

“We took advantage of him.”

“And we should have shown better judgement.” Ed finished.

Greg put a hand on his hip, trying to decide if they were being sincere or making fun of him. He decided it was a bit of both.

“See, that’s what I thought. You are two smart guys, you know this stuff and yet…” He shook his head. “Are you really telling me you’re that foolish?”

The two men exchanged a look. “Where Spike’s concerned, I suspected we’re twice the fool it takes to do what we did.” Ed replied glumly.

“Sarge, there’s just something about him, he’s so…”

“Magnetic.” Greg finished for him. “Yeah, I got that. Had that moment with him myself. And you know what I did? I respected the situation and the position he’s in, and Ed’s interest, and _didn’t_ make a move on him.”

Sam, who’d been staring resolutely at the table, was suddenly giving Greg a calculating look. Greg ignored it, choosing to focus on the situation at hand.

“Okay, let’s focus on the practical side of things. I’d like to talk to Spike again this evening and, if he’ll let me, go through the evidence he's collected so far. We’ll decide where to go from there. We can’t hide him in Sam’s apartment forever." He turned towards the door, paused, and turned back to leave a parting comment. "And for the foreseeable, think before your act and give serious consideration to keeping your hands, and mouths, to yourselves.”

***

Spike all in all had a productive morning. He wrote some code, debugged a script that had repeatedly refused to run right, and double-checked all his work projects were up to speed so his absence wouldn’t impact the company. He was glad of the time to himself, to be free to think with no distractions. Not that Ed and Sam were bad distractions, but it was hard to think straight when they were around being so… protective. Spike was used to fending for himself.

He found himself pacing a few times, watching out the windows for suspicious cars or people below. Sam called him mid-morning and Ed around lunchtime. He reassured each of them that he was okay, keeping himself busy.

It was late afternoon when his phone rang again. The number was unfamiliar but the country code clued him in on who was calling. He braced himself for an interrogation on his eating habits for the past week.

“Hello? Oh, hey sis… wait, what? Slow down. What’s happened?”

***

Sam gave Greg his apartment key and he left ahead of the other two. He wanted to speak to Spike alone first, without distractions or awkwardness. He knocked to announced his arrival, opening the door to find Spike sitting on the couch staring blankly at his phone. “Hi Spike. It’s just me. How was your day?”

Spike’s worried gaze met his and he started to talk, words tumbling from his mouth. “My parents got a phone call a few hours ago. It was from a man who said he was a police officer here in Toronto. He told them I had been killed in an accident last night. They… they were going out of their minds but when they broke the news to my sister she thought something wasn’t right about it and tried to ring me. I’ve just spent the last hour reassuring my mother that I’m not dead.”

There was a shocked silence between them as Greg took in all that Spike had relayed to him.

“Did the caller leave a name and number?” Greg pulled his phone out to get Ed on the case.

“Yeah, he did, but I already checked the police database and he’s not on it. Number’s a dead end too. He asked them lots of questions about my movements the past few days, where I’d been staying. And their original return date. He advised them to return as soon as possible, even suggested which flights to get.”

“What did you tell them?” Greg moved to sit near him.

“The truth or as much as I thought they could handle. I’ve asked them to delay their return, it’s not safe for them to come back to this. Not with guys like that waiting for them.”

He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“My dad’s been sick for a while. This trip home was probably his last. He doesn’t need this. Doesn’t need people calling him telling him his only son is dead. And Ma... I should be reassuring her that I'm not skipping meals not that I'm alive.”

He shook his head hard, tears falling down his cheeks.

“My family don’t deserve this. I can’t put them through it. They went through enough first time around.”

Spike had said near enough to nothing about what had happened in the past. And while it gave Greg no pleasure to take advantage of what had transpired that afternoon, he knew there was an opportunity to get actual answers and he was going to take it.

“What happened back then?”

“Lots of small things. Slashed tires. Broken windows. My family getting pulled over for stuff like broken tail lights that weren’t broken. People watching the house sometimes. It all stopped once I left.”

He stood and paced restlessly across the floor.

“But nothing like today has ever happened before. I don’t understand. My getting tangled up in your call isn’t enough to have prompted this. Something else must have happened.”

He stopped pacing and turned to look at Greg, eyes meeting his steadily.

“Did you talk to someone, tell them about the evidence I have? It may have been someone you’ve known for years, someone you trust?”

Greg shook his head adamantly. “No Spike, I haven’t spoken to anyone bar your old Sergeant, and that was before I knew about the evidence.”

“Is there any chance someone at the SRU overheard you guys talking?”

“No, we’ve been careful Spike, I promise. We wouldn’t put you or your family at risk unintentionally.”

Spike held eye contact, gaze piercing, before he nodded slowly and looked away.

“I just don’t understand why it has ramped up like this. Even the warning they gave me, the beating, was a little excessive. Unless…”

Greg saw Spike’s expression change, could almost see the cogwheels working in the younger man’s brain.

“Unless what?” He prompted

“Unless they were already on alert for some reason. Maybe one of them slipped up recently or they’re already under investigation? In that case, they wouldn’t want anyone remembering me. Someone might do some digging and put two and two together.”

“If that is the case, then this isn’t going to just die down like you’d hoped. That move today was bold. They were trying to gain some leverage on you. If they can’t, they’ll go after you more directly.”

Spike perched next to Greg on the couch. His confidence had clearly taken a battering by the day’s events, his face strained.

“So what do I do?” He looked imploringly at Greg.

“Start trusting us, for one. You need to tell us what happened all those years ago. You need to show us the evidence you’ve collected. Then we’ll make a plan and take action on it. Together. We can keep you safe, move you around if we have to.”

Spike slumped forward, head in his hands.

“There’s another option.” His voice was muffled.

“Yeah?” Greg asked, feeling like he had a good idea what Spike was going to say. “What’s that?”

“I could disappear. Leave the country. The continent. Go where no one can find me. Once I’m out of the picture, beyond the reach of anyone nosing around, they won’t have any reason to target my family.”

When he looked back up at Greg, his eyes were wet with tears.

“You know that solution wouldn’t be temporary, right? If anyone is investigating, your return would just start things up again. You’re talking about being gone for years, maybe even decades.”

“I love my family.” Spike replied, a few errant tears slipping down his cheeks. He scrubbed angrily at his face. “I’ll do what I have to to keep them safe.”

“Oh buddy, I get that, I really do. But just for the moment, let’s leave that as plan b. Whoever they are, I don’t want to see these bastards get away with that they’re doing.” Greg clasped Spike’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

“You know, as much as I’m putting blind faith in you that you’re not waiting for the opportunity to screw me over, you’re just as much putting faith in me that, you know, I’m not delusional or a pathological liar or something.” Spike pointed out.

Greg smiled at that. “I can’t say the thought hadn’t occurred to me but people with those kind of issues don’t manage to successfully hold down jobs for years on end. Things tend to unravel a lot sooner than that. Plus,” and he caught Spike’s chin between finger and thumb. “you didn’t give yourself a split lip and bruised cheek.”

There was a moment again, like the one they’d had in Greg’s car, as they gazed into one another's eyes. Greg could feel the thump of his heart in his chest and resisted the urge to lick his dry lips. It was Spike who made a move, leaning in towards him.

Greg pulled back, shaking his head. “Oh, buddy. This probably isn’t the time or the place for that. And you’re not in any condition to be making these kind of decisions.”

Spike had the grace to look embarrassed, cheeks flushing. “Sorry, it seems to be how I cope with stressful situations.”

“Yeah, Ed and Sam might have alluded to that.” Spike’s cheeks went impossibly redder. “They told you?!”

“Uh-huh, and I gave them both a dressing down for being foolish idiots. You’re not thinking straight, understandably. This isn’t the time to be starting anything.”

“So if the situation were different, you wouldn’t have pulled back just now?” Spike was eyeing him coyly and something stirred in Greg.

“You know you’re playing with fire right, if you’re angling for the three of us at the one time?”

“I told you I had a thing for explosives.” Spike pointed out huskily, glancing down at his hands before looking back up at Greg from underneath dark eyelashes.

Greg couldn’t stop the strangled laugh that escaped him. “Have a care, Spike. The equilibrium of my team is important, don’t run roughshod over it.”

That set a frown across Spike’s face. “I won’t. I promise. This isn’t… I’m not like that. I do my best not to leave a trail of destruction in my wake.”

“That’s good to know. Now, if we can get back to the problem at hand. You have evidence and I need to see it while you tell me the full story. Are you up for that?”

“I think I’d prefer to be kissing you right now.” Spike admitted.

And that, Greg knew, was exactly what Spike had been doing his best to do. Distract himself from the situation with whoever was to hand. It explained his near indiscriminate flirting with every member of Team One he’d met so far. The realisation sent a wave of disappointment through him but he pushed it down.

“Work before play buddy.” He replied firmly, determined not to waste more time.

“Oh. So if I eat all my veg, I’ll get some dessert?” The smile Spike gave Greg told him exactly what Spike had in mind.

He brought them back around on a more serious note, knowing exactly what buttons to press to bring the younger man down to earth.

“We need to get to work on this buddy. For your families’ sake as much as yours.”

That did it, the expression wiping off Spike’s face like he’d had a bucket of cold water poured over him.

“The original files are in a safety deposit box but I have copies.” He got up and pulled out a laptop from his bag, switching it on and setting it down on the table.

“It all started after Mac got hurt and I was assigned Holby as my training officer…”


	8. Playing for Keeps

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for non-graphic violence and implied threat of violence/sexual violence.

It was all horribly simple, Greg thought, once Spike had laid it all out. The next morning he sat him down with all three of them and had him go through it again.

***

Spike hadn’t been even a month with Holby when he noticed something wasn’t quite right. It had been innocuous things at first. They’d picked a young man up for possession but Holby had spoken to him alone and then let him go. When Spike had questioned it, he’d been sharply told the man was a confidential informant and he was to forget the whole thing.

Some weeks later they’d been on the periphery of a drugs bust. Spike had overheard the Sergeant coordinating the bust talking about how big the take was. Later, when he’d looked over the reports, the reported take was only half that size. It seemed unlikely they’d underestimated the weight by such a large amount. Suspicion slowly grew in Spike's mind.

The more he watched Holby, the more suspicious he became. The man had a second cell phone but he only ever seemed to use it out of earshot of Spike. Usually when they were responding to calls around a certain section of the area they covered.

It didn’t help that Holby seemed disinterested in Spike’s training, forcing him to look elsewhere for advice and support. There wasn’t much to be had where he was stationed. They were clique-ish and Spike an outsider, different and strange. They didn’t seem to want to get to know him and were more likely to tell him to shut up when he spoke about anything. There was one exception, Detective Bradley, who didn't seem to mind when Spike asked questions or enthused about some gadget or program.

The younger recruits were better, happy to include Spike on their social nights. He found companionship and friends among them. Or so he’d thought.

He confided in one of them about what he’d noticed with Holby and some of the other officers, needing some advice and another perspective on it.

“It could be nothing.” the other man had replied. “Would you want to stick you neck out for nothing?”

But Spike knew in his gut it wasn’t nothing. He approached his Sergeant the next day, knowing he needed senior advice.

The Sergeant’s manner had been off from the start. Spike didn’t understand it. He’d always been affable before, with a smile and a word of support or encouragement. Now he had a face like thunder that only darkened as Spike stumbled his way through what he’d noticed.

“Scarlatti, you’re a first year officer, still in training. Your job is to keep your head down and your nose clean. I suggest you pay more attention to your own performance and less to imagining what you see in those around you.”

Of all the things Spike had expected it wasn’t for his concerns to be dismissed out of hand. He’d seen too much for it to be a once-off or an irregularity. Several of his colleagues appeared to have an unusual relationship with members of one of the drug gangs that operated in their area. He knew about informants and undercover ops but this didn’t seem anything like that. Money was changing hands. He’s seen it. But it wasn’t going the right way. If they were informants, the cops would be paying them but the money was being given to the cops.

He left his Sergeant’s office bewildered and unsettled. His shift with Holby was excruciating, the man pulling him up on every little thing and going out of his way to be downright unpleasant. Spike knew he hadn’t had a chance to speak to the Sergeant so shouldn’t have been aware of Spike’s concerns. Unless…

“Who’d you tell?” He cornered his ‘friend’ in the locker room.

“What?” The man feigned confusion.

“What we talked about last night. Who’d you tell?”

“No one.” The other man shrugged it off.

“No, you told someone, you had to have. Who was it?”

The other man looked around, checking no-one was close enough to over hear. “I might have mentioned something to my partner, that’s all. He says you’re seeing things Spike. You need to play it sharp. Shut up and keep your head down.”

That advice was repeated to him over the next days and weeks. Keep your head down, keep your blinkers on. Don’t look left or right. But that wasn't in Spike's nature.

His next evaluation was a disaster, Holby nosediving his performance in the report. It wasn’t true or accurate but Spike would get no support from anyone else on that. He didn’t shut up either, questioning more directly the things he saw Holby do. That didn’t go down well with the man and Spike found himself slammed against their patrol car, a fist to his stomach causing him to double over in pain.

“Pull your head in Scarlatti or I will rip it off.”

After that he’d played it smart, pulling CCTV files from areas when suspicious calls were happening. He caught on camera a few of the type of exchanges he had seen in person. He bypassed his Sergeant this time, going to Detective Bradley instead, and showed him what he’d found. The man had been a little dismissive but had promised to ‘look into it.’.

That’s when things really got bad for Spike. The next day Holby drove them down a dead end back lane and stopped. Another patrol car pulled in behind them, blocking their exit. Three of Holby’s friends got out, one of whom had featured prominently on the CCTV evidence Spike had gathered.

He’d gotten out of the car, feeling a pit of dread in his stomach. Three on one. He escaped the memorable encounter with cuts, bruises and a cracked rib but the memory of that feeling of dread and the inevitability of what was about to happen still welled up in him when he thought back about that day.

He reported it to his Sergeant when they returned to the station, requesting a change in training officer as he did but he had done nothing except raise his eyebrows and stay silent until Spike finished talking.

“Who do you think ordered that beat down Scarlatti? For someone so smart you’re fucking clueless, you know that.” He had said, walking around Spike to lock his office door.

“You must be feeling pretty miserable by now. As you see, you’re all alone. No friends, no support. No one is going to listen to what you have to say, not when they take a look at our reports on you. You’re a fantasiser, a liar, someone who makes thing up to make himself look good but who skimps on the hard work. That’s what all these say.” He said, tapping a finger on a stack of papers on his desk.

Spike was tongue-tied. He hadn’t expected the man to so baldly admit to what they’d been doing.

“Empty your pockets. Take everything off your belt.”

“What?”

“You heard me, everything on the desk, right now.”

Spike complied slowly, wondering what was going on. He figured it out quick enough as the Sergeant grabbed his phone and took a good look at it before smashing it off the corner of the desk, shattering the screen. Then he went through the rest of Spike’s possessions.

“Kick your shoes off. Hands on the table. Spread your legs.”

“Sergeant…”

“Now. If I have to get Holby and Michaels in here to hold you down so I can strip search you, I will, or you can make this a whole lot easier and do what I tell you to.”

Shuddering at the thought, Spike obeyed, placing his hands flat on the desk and spreading his legs. The Sergeant frisked him, running hands slowly and firmly across Spike’s body.

“If you’re wearing a wire, you’d better tell me now.” He said into Spike’s ear as he kicked his legs further apart.

He untucked Spike’s shirt from his trousers and ran his hands over the bare skin of Spike’s stomach and back, ignoring Spike’s hiss of pain as his hands roamed over fresh bruises. When he spoke again, his voice had changed, low and husky.

“All of this, what’s happening to you now, I can make it all go away. I can make it all better. Good reports, a new training officer, some money on the side if you’re willing to do a bit extra. You be good to me and I’ll be so good to you.”

As he spoke, one hand slipped beneath Spike’s waistband.

Spike jerked backwards against him, elbowing the older man in the stomach, body heaving with revulsion. “Get you hands off me!”

He was shoved face forward onto the desk.

“Sure, if that’s how you want to play this.” The Sergeant walked around the desk, picking up Spike’s gun where it lay still in its holster. He removed it slowly, checked it was loaded and reached out to push it against the side of Spike’s face. “Let’s try _this_ instead. Keep your mouth shut or we will arrange for a little accident to shut it permanently. Do we have an understanding?”

Wide-eyed, the gun pressed against his temple, Spike nodded.

“It’s a pity you turned me down. I’d have had fun fucking you with this.” The Sergeant tossed the gun onto the table.

“Get yourself together and get out. I don’t want you in here again or I will make good on my promise.” He dismissed Spike with a wave of his hand.

Spike didn’t waste any time, not bothering to tuck in his shirt. The Sergeant unlocked the door but didn’t open it. “At your next evaluation we’ll be recommending dismissal. You’re just not cut out to be an officer, Scarlatti. I recommend you don’t contest it.”

He opened the door and shoved Spike out with a hand on his lower back. The door slammed closed behind him. Spike’s walk to the locker room happened in a daze. He was aware of people staring. Sniggering.

He reached his locker and leaned forward, letting his forehead rest against the cool metal. When he got himself together enough to reach for the lock, he found his hands shaking. He clenched his fists, slamming them futilely against the locker door. Why was doing the right thing so hard? He’d tried, he really had, but he couldn’t do it anymore.

His last few days on the job were mercifully uneventful. He kept his head down, working quietly to gather as much evidence as he could before his access was revoked. At all times he felt the heavy gaze of Holby, Michaels and Bradley watching him. And then he was out, a relief for all that it was a failure.

***

As he finished telling his story for the second time, Spike looked up to find all three officers watching him closely as if enthralled by his story-telling. Greg with an expression of compassion, having heard the story once already. Ed and Sam had matching expressions of anger, Ed’s fists clenched, Sam’s body tense.

“You said it wasn’t a cop. The bad experience you had.” Ed clarified as Spike frowned.

“That wasn’t the bad experience. That was just my Sergeant being a creep, and a bastard.” Spike said dismissively.

“He have a reputation for that sort of thing?” Ed persisted.

“Not that I know of.” Spike replied with a shake of his head. “Look, let’s not get side-tracked. I only told you all that because Greg didn’t like the abbreviated version.” He glared at Greg who tried not to sigh. He’d picked up that Spike had left out something and insisted on full disclosure. Spike had agreed, albeit reluctantly.

“We needed to know Spike. It gives us insight into the kind of characters we’re dealing with.”

“I get it. Can we move past that now and onto the issue at hand?”

Greg complied, knowing dwelling on it would only serve to worsen Ed's anger and Spike's embarrassment.

“I’ve looked through the evidence Spike has. It’s pretty compelling. I’m not entirely sure how he came by all of it.” He gave Spike a long look getting only an innocent expression in reply.

“CCTV footage, discrepancies in written reports versus the official entries. Bank account statements showing financial irregularities in the accounts of the officers involved. Lab reports showing exact formula matches between drugs found with different gangs known to use different suppliers. In each case, some of that particular mix has already been picked up in a large drugs bust.”

“They were stealing drugs from larger takes and putting them back out into circulation.” Ed said.

“That seemed to be only part of it but it was the most noticeable.” Spike said. “I found some evidence to suggest they were keeping the gang appraised of planned raids. It was hard to get confirmation of that though.”

“And Spike’s theory someone is already investigating?” Sam asked.

“I spoke to an old friend, someone I really and truly trust.” Greg added for Spike’s benefit. “He pointed me towards Guns and Gangs. I paid them a visit yesterday evening. Turns out they noticed quite a while ago that one gang in particular always seemed to be a step ahead. They were clever about it though, they’d get low level collars, small stashes of drugs or guns when they raided but never the big paydays their surveillance had suggested. It took a while for them to work out that someone was warning them and just being clever to avoid undue suspicion.”

"So that's why they reacted the way they did when you spoke to Spike's old Sergeant?" Sam said.

"Seems likely."

"What now?" Ed asked.

"With Spike's permission, we pass on the evidence he's gathered. They may want to talk to you Spike, but we'll deal with the bridge when we come to it."

***

Greg stepped out in the hall to make a phone call while Sam went to get some drinks, leaving Spike alone with Ed.

The older man dropped onto the sofa next to him.

"How are you holding up?"

Spike turned his head towards Ed, looking worn out. "I'm so ready for this to be over."

"I know buddy, but this is progress." He reached out and slipped his hand into Spike's. He kept his gaze on their intertwined hands when he spoke, keeping his voice soft. " _Was_ that the whole truth, about what happened with your Sergeant?"

Fingers touched Ed's chin and he looked up at Spike, surprised at the contact.

"The whole truth, I swear. Like I said, your Sarge is a human lie detector, no point trying to get away with anything less." He added with a small smile. Ed smiled back.

"Don't get hung up on it, please Ed. It was years ago and it was over before it got started. And I'm okay."

"Yeah?" Ed asked.

"Yeah." Spike replied.

"Okay then. So you won't mind if I do this?" He asked, leaning in close, bringing his lips to Spike's. The younger man responded eagerly, hand moving to cup Ed's neck, bringing them even closer.

"Ahem."

They pulled apart as a voice spoke somewhere above them. Turning his head, Ed couldn't hide a groan at finding Greg looking down at them, arms folded. There was no escaping the disappointment on his face.

He was surprised when Spike spoke before he could. "Sorry Greg. We were in the moment."

Ed managed to keep a straight face for all of five seconds before he dissolved into laughter. It was clearly infectious, Spike starting to laugh along with him. Even Greg couldn't withhold a smile, especially when Sam wandered up moments later, surveyed them all with confusion and asked "what did I miss?"

"A moment, Sam." Greg replied with a shake of his head. "Just a moment."


	9. Promises to Keep

A rough whisper cut through the night. “Spike?” Again, a little more insistent. “Spike!”

“Wha’?” He raised his head from the pillow and peered blearily into the darkness.

“It’s Sam. Team One’s been upped early so I have to go. Just didn’t want you to wake to an empty apartment. Go back to sleep.”

“Okay, Sam. Be safe.” He mumbled in reply and let his head fall back onto the pillow.

When he woke again it was light out. For the first few seconds he worried about nothing, lazing contentedly in the bed, then it all came back to him in a rush and he rolled over, groaning and burying his head in the bedclothes.

He had grudgingly agreed to allow Greg to pass his information onto Guns and Gangs. He’d even more reluctantly acquiesced to Greg passing his name along too. It seemed like a risk but Greg promised it would only be to someone he trusted, someone he’d known professionally for years.

Sitting up, he checked his watch and mentally calculated the time difference. It would be lunchtime in Italy. He’d ring just after. His family were always in a better mood after they’d eaten.

Checking his phone he saw a text from Ed. ‘Check in when you’re up.’. Knowing they might still be in the middle of a call, he sent a text. He made his way to the kitchen, making himself some toast. Then he showered, dressed and sat down with his laptop to go through his work emails.

His boss was starting to get antsy about him not being around in person. If he didn’t make an appearance in the next few days, they might pull a project from him. He wondered how easily he might convince Greg and Ed to let him go to work for a morning. Work had fairly heavy security, so once he got there, he should be safe.

Ed replied to his text, letting him know they were still in the midst of an ongoing call but asking him to check in every two hours by text so they’d know he was okay. He replied with an affirmative. They were helping him with his problem, the least he could do was not having them worry unnecessarily.

After dealing with a few urgent emails, he called his family. The hysteria from the other day had eased off, but there was worry and concern in their voices, disappointment in his father's. “I thought you’d left all this behind you.”

He ended the call as quickly as he could then pondered whether going out for a run would be reasonable. He was still sore from the beating but he’d been housebound for days now with all this pent up nervous energy and no way to expel it. Frustration didn’t begin to cover it.

He settled for doing push-ups on the floor, regretting his initial exuberance when the vague pain in his side graduated to full blown cramping agony. Some time passed while he lay curled up on the floor, panting through the pain. Chastened by his own foolishness he returned to the table and his work. He checked in with Ed again and another hour passed. It was approaching lunchtime but he wasn’t hungry. At least, not for what little Sam had in his cupboards. He thought about ordering take out, but decided he'd better save his cash. Credit cards would be a mistake, there was every chance they were monitoring his card activity as a way to locate him.

He was just about to raid Sam’s fridge for whatever he could scrounge up when there was a knock on the door. He stood slowly, reaching for his phone while listening carefully. He had Ed’s number on the screen, about to press the call button. But there was silence, no one called out, no one knocked again. He began to relax, moving to sit back down when something hit the door, hard, and it flew open. A familiar face stood in the doorway.

***

The call had reached its climax when Ed’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He was forced to ignore it, focusing instead on the armed target Greg had almost talked down. Another few minutes and they’d be walking the guy out of there in cuffs and leading his hostage to safety.

Ed’s timing was a little off and it was close to fifteen before their subject was safely in custody. He checked his phone to see a missed call from Spike and rang him back. The call rang out. He tried again and still no answer.

“Eddie, something wrong?” Greg asked as he approached.

“Spike tried to call fifteen minutes ago and now he’s not picking up.” He tried not to let the worry show but Greg’s own expression reflected it back at him. “Take Sam and go check on him. Let’s not take any chances.”

“Sam. With me.” Ed called gesturing to the SUV. He drove, filling Sam in as they took off. They reached Sam’s apartment complex in record time, running up the stairs. Their worst fears were confirmed on finding the apartment door ajar, wood splintered from the strength used to force it open. Guns drawn, they went inside.

Within the apartment it was clear a struggle had taken place. Chairs overturned, Spike’s laptop and a blood stained glass smashed on the floor. There was a splatter of blood on the wall as well and more smeared on the table.

“Spike?” Sam called as they moved to clear the bathroom and bedrooms. The apartment was empty.

Ed pulled out his phone and made the call, walking back towards the apartment door. “Greg, the door's been forced in, Spike’s gone. There’s signs of a struggle and some blood.”

“Ed, come see this.” Sam called from inside the apartment. "Hold on Greg, I'll call you back." Ed said into his phone as he jogged over to where Sam was standing next to the window leading out into the fire escape. “Windows open. And look, see that.” He pointed to the metal handrail where the ladder descended. There was blood smeared across it.

“He tried to escape.”

They were interrupted by a sound from the doorway, and turning, guns raised, they found an elderly lady with a large dog. The dog growled menacingly.

“Is that you Samuel?” she squinted at them and adjusted her glasses.

“Yes Mrs. Grantham. There’s been a break-in.” Sam replied, lowering his gun with a sigh.

“I know. There was a lot of shouting and yelling. I called the police almost an hour ago.” She seemed put out that she’d had to.

“M’am, did you see anthing?” Ed asked.

“I saw one of them climbing down the fire escape. The others tried to go down that way too, but I let Bruno out onto the fire escape and he forced them back up.” She patted the dog's head, smiling fondly at him.

“So one of the men escaped down the fire escape?” Ed repeated.

“That’s what I said. I might be old but I’m not senile.” She replied irritably.

“Did you get a good look at him?” Ed persisted. Sighing, she thought for a moment.

“He was tall with brown hair. Tanned. Wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He was bleeding, and his face was bruised.”

“Did you see which way he ran?”

“No.” She surveyed the destruction in the apartment. “I hope this isn’t related to your work Samuel. I shall be bringing this up at the residents meeting on Friday.” She left abruptly.

“She seems charming.” Ed said. “But that was quick thinking, she may have bought Spike enough time to get away. The only question is, how do we find him now?”

“Maybe he’ll go to the SRU?” Sam suggested.

“No, I don’t think so. Guys who came for him were probably cops. He won’t risk running into any more. And he won’t go home or to work, he knows they’d find him there.”

They stood looking at one another and around the room as if hoping to get a clue from something there. Sam turned back to Ed abruptly.

“There is another place. Spike mentioned that his work has a testing site a bit outside the city. It’s where he flew the drones and tested the remote drive car.”

“Okay, it's worth a shot.” Ed replied, before calling Winnie to get an address.

***

Forty minutes later and they were pulling into the isolated site, enclosed by a barbed wire fence. There was a guard station but it was unmanned.

As Ed got out to checked the gates, stains on the tarmac caught his attention. “We’re on the right track, there’s blood drops here.”

“So he’s still bleeding.” Sam replied uneasily.

"Lock's still intact but there's enough give in the gates that he might have squeezed through. Would explain the amount of blood here." He added, gesturing to the edge of the gate. “Let’s cut these chains and get in there.”

They followed the road until they came to a large building next to an open field with a driving track.

There was a small car park but it was empty.

“Doesn’t look like anyone else is here.”

“Well, Spike didn’t get here on foot.”

“Probably caught a cab.”

They got out, Sam grabbing the first aid kit from the trunk and slinging it across his shoulder. They had their weapons at the ready and approached the building cautiously. Ed tried the door, surprised when it swung open. “Locks been broken.”

“Spike probably didn’t have his access key.” “Or someone came in after him.”

They entered and Ed called out. “Police! Spike, it’s Ed and Sam. Call out if you can hear us.”

Silence.

“Let’s sweep the building.” Sam suggested. “Or follow the trail.” Ed countered, pointing out blood drops leading up the stairs.

They took the stairs quickly. At the top, there was no indication of which way to go. “We’ll go left.” Ed said and took point. They passed through the first door and heard a sound coming through the door ahead of them. They fanned out, clearing the room.

“Police! Spike, it’s Sam and Ed.” Sam called out. Hearing no answering call, they proceeded into the next room with weapons raised.

At first glance the room was empty. Then Ed caught a flicker of movement on the other side of a desk and, instinctively, they both aimed their weapons at it. “Police. Stand up slowly, hands in the air, right now.”

A familiar head of brown hair came into view from behind the table, followed by wary eyes as Spike stood. His lip was split, dried blood on his chin. His hands were raised, one wrapped in what looked like paper towel, already soaked through with blood and tied off clumsily with tape.

He was eyeing them both with fear and as Ed approached he jerked his arms higher, a look of pleading crossing his face.

Ed holstered his weapon and held both hands out, palms up.

“Whoa, buddy, it’s just us. We’re here to help, I promise.”

Spike lowered his hands slowly, eyes darting from one man to the other.

“Spike, we need to get some pressure on that bleeding.” Sam said, moving forward and taking charge. Ed was relieved when Spike didn’t try to fight Sam off. “Here.” He guided Spike to sit on the table he’d been crouching behind and quickly unwrapped the crude bandage on Spike’s hand. There was a deep gash in the centre of his palm.

“They knocked me to the floor and I landed on the broken glass.” Spike explained weakly. “It’s hard to tie it off properly with only one good hand.”

Sam opened the first aid kit, pulling out disinfectant and a roll of bandages.

“This is gonna sting.” He warned as he cleaned the wound out.

“It already feels like someone’s stabbing my palm repeatedly.” Spike replied. “Stinging would make a change.” Despite his bravado he winced and gritted his teeth.

“I think you might still have some glass in there but for right now I’m just gonna wrap it up tight. You’ve lost enough blood for today.” Sam expertly wound the bandage tightly around Spike’s hand, adding a second bandage to increased the pressure.

“Any other injuries?” Ed asked, looking Spike up and down and reaching to lift his t-shirt.

Spike shook his head, trying to shift out of Ed's reach but hampered by Sam's close presence. “The hand was the worst of it. Just cuts and bruises otherwise.”

Ed nodded slowly, catching sight of fresh bruising on Spike's abdomen but deciding not to press the issue. “Alright buddy. Can you walk?”

“Walk, yes. Run, no.” He replied. “Where are we going?”

“Hospital first, to get that hand sorted. Then to the SRU.”

“No. No no no.” Spike said, shaking his head vigorously. “No more cops. You should just leave me here.”

“So you can bleed out slowly or die from an infected wound in a few days' time?” Ed asked, unable to hold back the sarcasm.

“At this stage the alternative is a bullet to the head.” Spike replied, eyes straying to Ed’s holstered gun.

“Not from us buddy. We’re here to keep you safe, I promise.” Ed squeezed Spike’s shoulder, waiting for the other man to make eye contact. Spike looked up, eyes glazed over from a combination of pain, blood loss and exhaustion.

“They knew where I was. They came for me.” He sounded resigned, afraid.

“I know. I’m sorry Spike. We underestimated them. We won’t make that mistake twice.” Ed replied. “At the SRU we can keep you safe. We’ll go further if we have to. Safe house, witness protection.”

“Trust us. Please.” Sam added.

Spike regarded them with a mix of distrust and resignation.

“I guess if you wanted me dead you’ve had at least a dozen opportunities already. No one even knows I've been with you these past few days." He looked away, biting on his lower lip. When he looked back a ghost of a smile crossed his face. "Plus, you guys have those special ops skills. I’d have been dead before I even felt it. I definitely feel this.” He held up his now bandaged hand, frowning at it.

“We should move. It might not take them long to check for you here.” Ed cautioned and Spike paled, sliding from the desk to the floor. He wavered on his feet and both men reached for him.

"I'm okay. I can walk." He said, brushing off their helping hands. Taking a step forward, he wobbled. Ed sighed and reached for him, ignoring Spike's attempt to push his hands away. A brusque "either let me help or I'll carry you to the car." ended Spike's weak protest.

Sam led the way, Ed wrapping a supportive arm around Spike’s upper body. The injured man leaned heavily on him as they made their way downstairs and back to the car. Sam drove, Ed sitting in the back with Spike, the younger man wrapped in a blanket, his head resting tensely on Ed's shoulder.


	10. A Kiss and a Promise

All Spike wanted to do was let his eyes close and block out the world. But Ed seemed determined to keep him conscious, asking question after question about what had happened in Sam’s apartment.

“I told you already.” He ground out, irritable from the pain. “I heard a knock, then they broke the door down. It was Holby, Michaels and the officer who was with Sergeant Bradley the other night. They wanted to know what I’d told you and where I was hiding the information I had on them.”

Spike’s voice caught in his throat as they hit a bump in the road which sent a shock of pain along his side. It took a moment for him to recover enough to speak.

“I wasn’t talking so Michaels slammed me against the table, sending the glass and the laptop flying. Then he hit me and I hit the floor, embedding my hand in the broken glass.”

He gritted his teeth as the car bounced again. “Sam, didn’t they teach you how to drive in JTF2?”

“Sorry Spike, hold on, we’re almost there.” Sam replied, glancing at him through the rearview mirror.

“What happened then Spike, how’d you get away?” Ed asked.

Spike tried hard to focus. “I told them the information was with me, in my bag in the guest room. Holby went to get it. I was still sitting on the floor. Officer no-name was out in the hall keeping watch. Michaels only had half an eye on me and the other on the door. My phone had landed on the floor next to me so I set a ten second countdown on an alarm and slid it across under Sam’s couch. It went off, distracting Michaels and I made a run for the fire escape. They weren’t far behind me but then there was a dog and they weren’t behind me anymore.” He finished with a shrug, regretting the movement as it sent another sharp pain through him.

“Buddy, hold on. We’re almost there.”

“It’s a cut, on my hand. You’d swear I was dying the way you two are going on.”

“You may have lost more blood than you realise, and you’re in shock.” Ed countered as they pulled into the hospital car park.

Sam helped him out of the car, Ed going around to the trunk. He returned with a vest, pulling it on over Spike’s head.

“This seems a bit futile. If anyone’s shooting at me, I’m pretty sure they’ll be aiming for my head.” Spike argued as Ed tightened the vest.

“Yeah, and as much as your swelled head is quite the target, if they miss it and you take a bullet to the chest, I don’t think Greg will accept that explanation.” Ed remarked.

“My head isn’t swelled.” Spike argued back, conceding defeat as Ed finished fastening the vest in place.

“Now, let’s get in, get that hand fixed and take you somewhere safe. Greg’s sending Wordy and Jules for back-up, they’re on route and should be here in five.”

***

A quick word and a flash of Ed’s badge got Spike fast tracked through triage and into the diligent hands of a nurse practioner who made quick but thorough work of cleaning Spike’s wound, pulling half a dozen shards of glass of varying sizes from Spike’s palm.

“No tendon or nerve damage as far as I can tell.” She reassured. “But it’ll need two layers of stitches and that hand will be out of action for a while."

She took some blood before she brought the doctor in to stitch it. He stitched the wound with a practised eye before taking a look at the rest of him, starting with Spike's lip. 

“He took a few blows to the abdomen.” Ed said pointedly, ignoring the glare Spike aimed in his direction.

“I’ll check it out.” The doctor said, picking up on the tension in the room. “Maybe you could wait outside?” He suggested to Ed.

“No, he should stay.” Spike said before Ed could insist.

They both turned back to him and he sighed, starting to unstrap the vest with one hand. Ed moved to help, pushing his hand aside.

“I’ve got this. Conserve your strength.” Spike rolled his eyes but complied.

There was another round of poking and prodding before Spike was pronounced bruised but otherwise unscathed. "Your blood count's on the lower end of normal but not in the danger zone. You'll make up for it quickly enough." The doctor reassured.

Ed resecured Spike’s vest and they stepped out of the cubicle to find two unfamiliar officers standing with Sam.

“Spike, this is Wordy and Jules. They’re going to help us escort you back to the SRU.”

“Hey Spike.” “Hi Spike.” They were both giving him curious glances.

“Um, hi.” More cops. Just what he needed.

“Let’s get you out to the car. Wordy and Jules are going to follow behind in a second vehicle.”

The walk was short but to Spike it felt like miles. Sam jogged ahead to get the SUV and pulled up to the entrance. Ed helped Spike in before climbing in next to him.

He drifted off as they drove, waking sometime later to a hand on his shoulder. “We’re here, Spike. Let’s get you inside.”

Greg met them at the entrance. “Hi Spike. Sam, will you take him into the briefing room and get him settled.”

“Sure Boss.” Sam replied, taking over from Ed who been supporting Spike.

Sam brought him into a room with a large oval table and chairs. There was a window with a view of the city.

“Here, sit down.” Sam said, easing Spike into a chair and crouching next to him. “You need anything?”

“A time machine? A plane ticket to Italy?” Spike joked.

“Hey, you’re doing the right thing. Do you really want to be exiled from your home? To always be looking over your shoulder when you’re visiting your family?”

“I’d rather not be dead."

“We’re not going to let that happen.”

“Yeah? Where were you this afternoon when they were kicking your door down?” Spike regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, the guilt clear on Sam’s face.

He leaned forward, letting his uninjured hand covers Sam’s where he was bracing himself on Spike’s chair.

“I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

“No, I think maybe we did. When I saw the door open and we couldn’t find you, I thought we were too late. But then we saw the trail of blood down the fire escape.”

“How’d you find me?”

“Process of elimination. It was the only place you’d mentioned that wasn’t a really obvious place for them to look.”

“I guess maybe I _was_ hoping you would find me.”

“Why wouldn’t you want us to find you?”

“Let's see. The day after I give you all the information I have, they come after me again, armed with the knowledge that I had evidence against them. Bit of a coincidence, don't you think?” Spike answered, not holding back on the sarcasm.

“You're right, it's clearly not a coincidence. But I know the leak isn’t on our side.” Sam tried to reassure him.

There was a noise from the doorway and they both looked up to see Greg there.

“Sam, will you give us a minute please.”

“Sure.” The blond man gave Spike’s hand a quick squeeze as he stood and walked past Greg out of the room. Greg stepped inside then pressed a button on the panel next to the door. The doors to the room slid closed and sealed. Shutters came down over the windows as well. It put Spike on edge and he sat up straighter, watching the Sergeant carefully. Greg approached, pulling out a chair and turning it to face Spike before taking a seat.

“You look spooked.” were the first words out of Greg’s mouth. “I’m just here to talk.”

“You sealed the room.” He pointed out with a wave of his uninjured hand.

“I wanted to speak to you in private.”

“Do you want me to empty my pockets?” Spike spat out, feeling anger well up in him. He was tired of being moved around like a piece on someone else’s chess board.

“No, Spike. I just want to talk, that’s all.” Greg responded quietly, holding his hands up as if to placate him.

Spike couldn’t handle the gentleness. He was angry, he wanted someone or something to fight against.

“No, you know what. I’m sick and tired of talking. Look where it’s gotten me. I’m getting out of here.”

He stood as he spoke, ignoring the wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. He stepped towards the door and a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Spike, slow down…”

“Don’t touch me!” He shouted, pushing the older man away, knocking himself off balance in the process. Strong arms wrapped around him, unyielding even as he tried to struggle free. “Stop Spike, stop it now, it’s okay.” Greg kept talking, not releasing the grip he had on him even as Spike hit out at him. “Let me go.” Spike tried to demand but it came out more like a sob. “Let go.”

“Aw, buddy. Years of looking over your shoulder and two beatings in the space of a week. I can’t blame you for being scared and angry. It must look like we sold you out.”

Spike stilled at his frank words and Greg tilted his head, making eye contact. “It’s no coincidence that they came after you only hours after I handed your information over to Guns and Gangs. The leak isn’t on our side Spike. We’ve got your back until this is over.“

Spike blinked tiredly, glad of the supportive arms holding him upright. “You told me you trusted the officer your passed my details onto.” He couldn’t keep the accusation from his voice.

“I did. I do, but we know the information is leaking from somewhere. We’re working on it.”

“How can you keep me safe if you don’t know where the danger is coming from?” Spike knew he should extricate himself from Greg’s arms, it wouldn’t do to get comfortable. But he was tired, cold, and in pain and Greg’s arms were strong and he radiated body heat. So he let himself be tugged closer, let the older man support him, propping him up against his body, bringing Spike’s head to rest against his shoulder.

“Keeping people safe is our job. Anyway, it looks like Guns and Gangs had already built a pretty strong case. Your evidence is just the final nail in the coffin. They’ll be moving on them soon.” The older man murmured in his ear.

Spike lifted his head, feeling renewed hope surge through him. “So this might be over soon?”

“If things go to plan, then in a matter of days, yeah.”

“So I can hole up in your sealed briefing room until then?”

Greg let out a surprised laugh, reaching out a hand to tousle Spike’s hair.

“Sure, but I think we can keep you safe _and_ make you a little more comfortable.” They were nearly nose to nose and instinctively Spike leaned in, brushing his lips against Greg's.

“Spike.” Greg’s voice held a gentle warning. “Not the time or the place.”

“Oh.” He felt his face heat as he pulled back. “Right. Sorry.”

“Oh buddy, what are we gonna do with you, huh?” Greg asked, then placed a quick kiss on Spike’s cheek. “Let’s get you off your feet at least. Then we’ll talk a little more.”

Spike let himself be guided back to the chair he’d vacated, sinking down into it with a sigh.


	11. Kiss and Tell

The arrival of two officers from Guns and Gangs a few short hours after they brought Spike back to the SRU was a surprise. And not a welcome one.

“What can I do for you Gentleman?” Greg stepped out to greet them.

“Cooper sent us. Wanted us to get some more information on your source.”

“I see. Come on in and take a seat. Can I get you some coffee?”

Greg brought them into the briefing room, sealed the door and sat down to hear them out.

He told them about the assault on Spike.

“So you have him here, in the SRU?”

“He’s sleeping off the worst of it upstairs in our first aid room. We know no one would be foolish enough to come after him here.”

“We’d like to talk to him when he’s up to it.”

“I’ll contact Cooper tomorrow to arrange it.”

Greg sent them on their way with a sigh.

***

The phone call was brief.

“We’ve found him. At the SRU. We’ll send details.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

***

It should not have been so easy. The SRU team on shift was called out around one am. He stayed concealed across from the building, keeping the entrance in sight and occupied himself checking his silencer was screwed tightly onto his gun. He waited until just after two before he slipped inside. He followed the instructions and directions he’d been given, entering through the front door.

The trickiest part was next as the only way to go led him straight to the desk where he knew a dispatcher would be working.

He hid around the corner, peaking a look to see a woman at the desk with her back to him. He pulled back out of sight and listened. He didn’t want to have to take her out, they’d said to stick to the target, but he would if necessary.

“The Bennett file? Sure, boss. I’ll go get it now.”

There was a scraping of a chair on the floor and then footsteps retreating. He looked around the corner again. The coast was clear.

He made a beeline for the door that led to the stairs. It opened easily. He climbed quietly, listening for voices, footsteps. There was nothing. He reached the second floor and pushed open the door, checking for any sign of life in the dimly lit corridor. There was a door open down one end. He heard voices, quiet laughter.

He’d been given directions to the room Mike Scarlatti was sleeping in. It was the opposite end of the corridor from where the voices were. SRU had made this too easy. They’d been overconfident. They didn’t think anyone would dare enter their precious Barn. And so he’d walked right in.

Slow, steady footsteps took him down the corridor towards the room where Mike was. It was the third on the left, a sign saying 'First Aid Room' on the door.

The door was slightly ajar. Could they have placed someone inside? He stopped and listened, then crept slowly closer.

He could hear breathing coming from inside the room. Just one person. Pushing open the door slowly, light from the corridor illuminated the cot on which Scarlatti slept. He was bundled in blankets, facing down. Made it easier, not having to see a face.

He stepped closer, until he was standing above the man and looking down on him. He took a deep breath to steady his nerves and the shaking in his hands. There was a pillow pushed against the top of the cot and another under the man’s head. He took the first and placed it across the back of Scarlatti’s head, pushing the muzzle of his gun against it and pulled the trigger. A muffled sharp sound emanated from it and the gun retorted, kicking his arm back.

Two things happened simultaneously that told him things hadn’t gone to plan. The first was how the body below him didn’t change even minutely after the shot. No release in tension, no sag, no blood spatter. The second was the hard press of metal against the back of his own head.

“Drop the gun. Now.” A voice said quietly in his hear before the room was flooded with light. Within seconds, he was on the floor, hands cuffed behind him and a booted foot pressed to the centre of his back.

“Ah, damn it. He killed the first aid manikin. I thought you were going to stop him _before_ he fired the shot?”

“Boss said after. Reduced risk of collateral damage if he wasn’t prepped to fire when we took him down.”

Another set of footsteps entered the room.

“Nice job, guys. Neat and tidy. Jules, go tell everyone they can stand down and let’s get the perimeter back up. Seal the front exit.”

He was pulled to his feet and turned around to face two of the men, the third keeping hold of his arms.

“I’m Sergeant Parker, this is Officer’s Wordsworth and Young. We’re gonna take you downstairs now and have a little chat.”

“I’m not telling you anything.” He spat back.

The Sergeant smiled back at him then turned to Wordsworth.

“They always say that and they always talk. What’s that about, huh?”

“Must be your excellent conversation skills, Sarge.” The other man replied.

His confusion at their interaction must have shown on his face.

“Still trying to figure out what happened? Come on, we practically issued you an open invitation.” The Sergeant said, shaking his head.

“Come into my parlour, said the spider to the fly.” The other officer quipped.

They’d been played.

***

Spike was fast asleep when Ed’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He stepped outside to answer so as not to wake him, keeping his voice low. He could see Sam's outline where he stood near the door.

“Yeah, Greg. All fine here. Did the plan work? Great. He’s asleep, I’ll let him know when he wakes.”

He peeked back in the door to find Spike sitting up, rubbing his eyes. “Ed?”

“Here, buddy.” He stepped back into the room. “Greg called. The plan was a success, guy walked right into the trap.”

“Is he a cop?”

“First impression says no. Maybe a gang member, probably just a hired gun. Greg’s about to question him now.”

Spike sighed sleepily, then frowned down at his bandaged hand.

“That hurting?”

“Throbbing a bit. The glass really made a mess of it.”

“I’ll get the pain pills the doctor gave you, hold on.”

Ed walked out of the bedroom to the living area where his jacket was thrown across the back of a chair. Sam was guarding the door, on alert.

“All quiet?” “Yeah. Was that the boss?”

“Yep, they took the bait, sent someone after Spike. They’re about to interrogate him.”

He pulled the bottle of pills from his pocket. “I’m not looking forward to this battle.” He said, holding up the pills so Sam could see. “Do you think he’ll see reason? He’s in pain and exhausted, he needs rest.”

“Good luck. Rather you then me.” Sam replied with a grimace. “Call me if you need back-up”

“Yeah.” Ed let out a bark of laughter. “Will do.”

Spike was sitting up against the headboard. He looked up as Ed came in.

“I don’t want any pills.” His tone was adamant.

“Sure, it’s your call. I’ll just leave them here.”

He set the bottle on the bedside table, next to a glass of water.

“You need rest. Go on back to sleep.”

Spike huffed but lay down, closing his eyes. Ed resumed his seat near the door and simply watched. The younger man didn’t settle, shifting minutely every few minutes. He turned over then let out a quiet gasp of pain and sat up.

Ed moved over to sit next to him on the bed. “Alright Spike, just breathe through it.” He didn’t reach for him, Spike had been leery of physical contact since they’d left HQ.

“This sucks. I mean really sucks. Driving right now would be really unpleasant so there goes my escape plan of driving south and crossing the border. Hell, I can’t even sleep.”

“Spike…”

“What if they come for me and I’m too out of it to defend myself. Too drugged up to run. What then?”

“Well they’d have to get through me and Sam first. And they’d have to find out you were here. The only people who know that are me, Sam and Greg. Sam’s friend is deployed overseas. He’s knows Sam’s borrowing his place for a few nights but he’s keeping it on the QT. And they’ll have figured out by now, since their man hasn’t checked in, that we’re on to them. They won’t risk coming after you again, they know we’re waiting.”

Spike didn’t respond at first, his breathing the only sound audible. “Maybe I could take half a pill?”

“They’re capsules, they don’t break in half. Label says take two every four hours.”

“Fine, I’ll take one.” Spike reached for the bottle.

“I’ve got it, you won’t get the child proof seal open with one hand.”

“Great, relegated to two year old status.” Spike grumbled, then popped the pill Ed handed to him into his mouth and swallowed it down with a mouthful of water from the glass Ed handed him.

“I need to call my parents. They’ll worry and I don’t want them to change their minds about coming home.”

“They said they’d stay in Italy until things were safe, didn’t they?”

“They agreed to stay and come home with my sister. That’s in ten days time. She needs to get back for work so she can’t stay there forever.”

“Okay, we’ll arrange a phone call in the morning. For now, you need sleep.”

“It hurts too much.” The younger man admitted, shifting in discomfort.

“I guessed as much. Let’s make a deal. You take another pill and I promise you I will wake you up before 10am to call your folks.”

“And if I don’t? You’ll what, just let me sleep on?” Spike seemed amused at the thought.

“I was thinking I’d handcuff you to the bed.” He kept his tone light and smiled at Spike, so there would be no doubt he was joking.

Spike looked at him for a long moment, frowning. “To be honest I’m not sure that’s funny given the circumstances.”

“Well if we’re being honest, I’d have to say that I’ve wanted to handcuff you to a bed almost from the moment I met you.”

That provoked a reaction, Spike’s eyebrows climbing upwards. “You have _no_ sense of timing, you know that?”

“Says the man whose response to mortal danger is to try to kiss everyone within reach.”

“Hey!” Spike replied, indignant, “you initiated at least fifty percent of the time. And Sam kissed _me_ I’ll have you know. Greg though, you may have a point there...”

“You kissed Greg?” Ed couldn’t keep the surprise from his voice.

“No. I _tried_. He’s too knight in shining armour. Unlike the rest of you.” Spike sounded disappointed more than anything.

“Damn. I was hoping I’d get to do the whole ‘I’m disappointed in you’ speech this time.”

Spike shifted down the bed and turned towards him a little.

“I bet he’s good at that. One look and I feel like he’s reading my soul and I want to be better, just for him.”

Ed risked resting a hand on Spike’s shoulder, relieved when the younger man accepted the touch. “Yeah, Greg can have that effect on people. He knows how to speak to them, not just talk at them, you know?”

“Yeah, you guys must make a good team.” Spike yawned and let his head drop a little.

“We work pretty well together.”

“You play well together too?”

Ed paused, unsure of Spike’s meaning.

“Greg said you were close. Did he mean… you know…”

“Half asleep and still asking the hard questions I see?”

“Answer it, and I’ll take a second pill.”

Ed sighed and rubbed his hands across his face. It had been a long day and now Spike was playing at emotional blackmail. “Spike…”

“Not the time or the place. I know. Sorry, Ed.” He sounded genuinely contrite.

Ed took his hands from his face and took out another pill, holding it out for Spike. Spike’s expression wavered.

“Do you promise you won’t…”

Ed wasn’t sure what the younger man was going to say, but they were interrupted by Sam.

“We’ve got some movement outside. Car just pulled up in front of the building.”

“Stay here, Spike.”

“No, Ed…”

“ _Stay here._ ”

Spike’s protests were silenced by his tone. Ed followed Sam out into the living area and across to the window.

“How many?”

“At least two.”

“Alright, better call for back-up.”

He caught the slightest sound of movement behind them. “Back to bed, Spike. You’re in no condition to be up, let alone climbing down any fire escapes.”

He turned and fixed his gaze on the man who was inching his way towards the apartment door.

“I get that trusting us doesn’t seem like the smartest move right now, given everything that’s happened, but that’s not all on us, buddy. If you’d been honest with us from the start we would have known what we were up against sooner.”

Ed started towards where Spike was standing unmoving against the wall.

“But now we know and we can keep you safe.”

Sam spoke from the window. “False alarm, they just picked someone up and drove off.”

Ed heaved a sigh of relief then had to dive forward to catch Spike who slumped suddenly towards the floor.

“Whoa there.”

“Told you the pills were a mistake.” Spike was struggling to keep his eyes open and his feet under him.

“Seems like they’re doing just what we wanted. Let’s get you back to bed.”

“Can I sleep on the couch?”

“Nope, an extra set of doors between you and the outside world seems like a good plan right now.”

“Sam..” Spike whined.

“I’m with Ed. You need to be in bed, sleeping, while we keep watch.”

“You’ll get tired.”

“Greg is going to join us. We’ll take turns sleeping and keeping watch.”

“And you’ll wake me?”

“If you take the second pill.”

“I suppose, on the bright side, even if they do come for me, I’ll probably sleep right through it.” Spike replied, and let Ed lead him back to the bedroom.

He helped him take the second pill and lie down, pulling the duvet up to cover him.

"In answer to your question, Greg and I, we play well together. Have for a long time. It's never been a big thing. Just a thing." 

"Oh, I wondered. Thanks for telling me." Spike yawned before asking. "Will you wake me with a kiss?" He tried to look serious as he spoke but was unable to keep the smile from his face.

"Sure thing, sleeping beauty." Ed replied, leaning in so his mouth was only an inch from Spike's. It was Spike who closed the distance, pressing his mouth to Ed's, before letting his head flop back onto the pillow.

"'Night buddy. Sweet dreams." Ed whispered


	12. Telling Tales

Spike woke to his heart thumping away in his chest and Sam sitting next to his bed.

“What time is it?” He sat up groggily.

“8am. Go back to sleep.” Sam replied.

“Where’s Ed?”

“Napping on the couch. Greg’s keeping watch.”

He shifted onto his side so he was facing Sam. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask about what the guy they’d arrested had told them but what came out was “Terminator or Alien?”

“What?” Sam didn’t even try to hide his confusion.

“Are you more a fan of being hunted by alien creatures or by deadly androids?”

“Terminator. The tech is pretty cool.”

“Yeah, it is. I sometime wish I’d been born half a century later. Some of the stuff we can only dream about now will be a reality one day and I won’t be around to see it.”

It came out a little more morose than he’d intended.

“You may get to see more than you think. Live a very long life and we may even get hover-boards.”

“And time travel?” Spike joked, picking up on the Back to the Future reference easily.

“I’m not sure I’d want time travel. I mean, time travel with no consequences, sure. But if you could change things… I think the lure of that would be just too strong.”

Sam looked away and the expression on his face was light years away from the frivolous conversation Spike had intended.

“Hey, don’t knock it. We could go back and stop the travesty that was Episodes One to Three of Star Wars.”

That drew a chuckle from Sam and Spike felt relief. There was something there, a pain Sam carried, but this wasn’t the right time to urge him to unload.

“You are such a geek, you know that.”

“I’ve never tried to deny it. I am a card-carrying member of the geek squad.”

“Geek squad?”

“Yes, that’s what me and my boyfriends used to call it, back in college.”

“Boy _friends_?” Sam said, stressing the plural.

“What? I know what you Army boys are like, are you telling me you’ve never been in a relationship with more than one guy at a time?”

It was hard to make out in the darkened room but Spike thought he saw the slightest of blushes on Sam’s cheeks. He sat up in the bed as they talked.

“Fooled around, maybe. Relationship, no.”

“Well don’t knock it ‘til you try it. It’s still the best relationship I’ve ever had. The friend who’s apartment we’re in, did you and he…”

“Do I need to kiss you to shut you up again?” Sam demanded.

“Yes.” Spike replied, barely pausing his words. “Your friend has good taste in decor. Was he a sniper too, cos that’s pretty sexy in a…”

And Sam was suddenly on the bed beside him, a hand on either side of Spike’s face. The kiss was slow and gentle, a light press of lips against Spike’s mouth. It was enough to silence him.

Sam pulled back barely an inch, hands still cradling Spike’s face. “Hey, it’s okay now. You’re safe with us. Just try and calm down, okay?”

He’d guessed, rightly, that Spike’s chatter was merely an outlet for his fear and panic. He let one hand trace across Spike’s cheek, again and again, until Spike's breathing steadied and slowed. Then Sam drew Spike’s head to rest on his shoulder, wrapping arms around him. “Ed, Greg and I. We’ve got your back. I promise.”

Spike didn’t fall back asleep after that, but he lay down, facing away from the door and Sam lay behind him. Their bodies weren’t touching but Sam trailed one hand up and down Spike’s arm. He took as much comfort from that touch as he could.

***

The beep of Ed’s watch woke him and he sat up, instantly alert. 10am. His eyes sought out Greg, who was over by the window.

“Morning. All quiet since you bedded down.” The older man spoke before Ed got a chance to.

He sat up, swinging his legs around to the floor. “Spike wants to call his folks before they start to worry. I’ll go and wake him.”

“I’ll put some coffee on.” Greg replied, moving towards the kitchenette.

Ed knocked on the bedroom door before opening it. He wasn’t expecting what he found or the feeling of jealousy it provoked. Sam sat up, having the grace to look a little guilty as he moved away from Spike and stood.

Spike turned over and met Ed’s eyes. He shrugged awkwardly before he spoke.

“I freaked out a bit when I woke earlier. Sam was trying to keep me calm.”

Which made sense. Sam had been lying on top of the covers, Spike under them. He didn’t doubt the sincerity in Spike’s voice either. But he was glad it wasn’t Greg who’d come in to wake them. They’d all be facing a guilt trip for that.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Like I want to run far, far away.”

“Greg’s put some coffee on.”

“Fine. Coffee first and then running far, far away.”

“I’m gonna go see if he needs a hand.” Sam interrupted then edged around Ed to the door. Ed stopped him with a hand to his shoulder. “We’re okay, Sam. When all this is over, there’ll be time to talk.” Sam nodded and Ed turned back to Spike.

“It’s 10am. You wanted to call your parents.” Ed held out a phone.

Spike took it reluctantly. “Thanks.”

“You really are thinking of running again, aren’t you?” Ed couldn’t hold back the accusation in his voice.

“Hey, it’s not my fault we’re built with a fight or flight response. And I sure as hell can’t fight my way out of this.”

Ed forced himself to sit on the side of the bed, trying to appear less intimidating. “We already talked about this. You run now, you keep running. You stay and wait it out, you get to go back to your life.”

“If this goes on much longer, I won’t have a job to go back to.”

“You’ll find another. You’re strong, you’re a survivor. Don’t know how bright you are, top three percent, but you aren’t weak and that’s something.”

It took a moment for the words to filter through Spike’s brain and his mouth dropped open. “Are you quoting Firefly at me?”

“Sure. Wild west in space. What’s not to like?”

Spike started to laugh. “Oh god, I’m surrounded by crazy people.”

“And you fit right in.” Ed replied, grinning.

“Italian parents are a whole other breed of crazy. If I’m not off the phone in half an hour, I’ll need rescuing.”

“That I can do. With coffee and bagels.”

“You sure know the way to a man’s heart.” Spike joked. “Food and sci-fi references.”

“I’ll be back.” Ed said as he stepped out of the room to give the other man some privacy, Spike groaning audibly at his terrible impression.

***

Ed was just getting ready to go and interrupt Spike’s conversation when the man in question opened the bedroom door and wandered out.

“Morning, Spike. How’s that hand feeling?” Greg asked.

“It’s sore but it’s okay.” Spike replied.

“You can take something for the pain with your breakfast.” Greg replied, indicating the coffee, fruit and bagels laid out on the kitchen counter.

“How are you parents?” Ed asked, going to Spike’s side and half-guiding, half-herding him towards the counter.

“They’re still a little freaked out but they’re going to stay until my sister’s coming home next week.”

“Good, that’s good.” Greg replied. “Spike, a Sergeant from Guns and Gangs wants to take a statement from you. Today. We’re arranged it for just before lunch at the SRU. We’ve re-upped another team for security purposes, the building will be well guarded.”

Ed felt Spike tense beneath his hand and tightened his arm around the younger man. “Easy, Spike. We’ll be right there with you.”

“Okay.” He replied shakily. “Okay. I can do this.”

“Yeah, you can. And you aren’t doing it alone.” Sam spoke up, moving around the counter towards them.

He took a seat, accepting the cup of coffee and bagel Greg handed to him. Sam disappeared and returned with the pain medication, setting the bottle down on the counter. Spike pointedly ignored it. Greg didn’t, opening it and setting two pills out on the counter next to a glass of water.

Greg didn’t say anything, simply resumed sipping his coffee. After a long suffering sigh, Spike took one pill and popped it in his mouth, chasing it down with a mouthful of coffee.

“Two and I’ll be drowsy.” He muttered, ignoring the remaining capsule in favour of the bagel he was eating.

Ed exchanged a look with Greg who shook his head. This wasn’t the time to get into a battle of wills with Spike. They needed his cooperation.

***

Getting Spike back to the SRU went as smoothly as planned, Spike clad in a vest and sitting in the back of the car next to Sam. Ed drove and Greg called ahead to make sure everything was in place. They drove straight inside, the gates closing behind them and hustled Spike immediately up the stairs and into the briefing room. Sergeant Cooper was already waiting, alongside a Detective Masters Greg had met the few times they’d had occasion to work together.

Ed and Greg stayed inside the briefing room, sealing it off, while Sam and Jules took up posts outside. Wordy and Lew were guarding the perimeter, helped by members of Team Three.

It was three hours before the doors opened, the Guns and Gangs Sergeant and Detective nodding to them in passing as they made their way out.

Greg followed them out, seeming relieved to watch them go. Sam went to go into the briefing room, but Greg held him back. “They got what they needed but it’s taken a lot out of Spike. Ed’s trying to settle him. Give them a minute.”

“Sure.” Sam answered. “I’ll go check the perimeter.”

When he returned, Ed and Greg were chatting quietly beside the dispatcher's desk. He looked into the briefing room to see Spike talking with Jules. He looked exhausted, his eyes suspiciously reddened and puffy. But something Jules said made him laugh, lines of tension easing, if only for a moment.

He looked up and caught Sam’s eye. “Hi Sam.”

“Hey. I heard it went well?”

“I feel like a wet towel someones wrung out until there’s not a drop of moisture left. Did we bring those pills with us? My hand’s really starting to throb.”

Spike must really have been in a bad way to be actually asking for pain meds. “I think Ed has them, hold on.”

He returned with them, a bottle of water and a sandwich. “Greg says eat, drink and be merry. I think merry referred to these.” He shook the bottle of pills. “Because this certainly isn’t going to have much of an effect.” He added, sitting the bottle of water next to Spike.

“You haven’t got anything stronger? I could do with some hard liquor right about now.” Spike said.

“We’ve got some orange juice.” Jules countered with a smile. “Full of vitamin C and pulpy goodness.”

“Is she always so cheerful?” Spike said as a mock aside to Sam.

“An unreasonable amount of the time.” Sam admitted. “You get used to it.”

“Funny. I’ll go get you that orange juice, Spike. You, behave yourself.” She said to Sam.

“Who, me?” came Sam’s bemused reply as Jules left the room.

“Your team is a little intense.” Spike said once she’d left.

“They’re protective and a little pissed.”

“Why’s that?” Spike was curious.

“They weren’t too pleased about how we handled your situation. Too much secrecy, too little strategy. I guess we were a bit distracted.”

“I did warn you I have that effect on people.”

“We’re better than that. Or we should be.” Sam didn’t hide his frustration but the effect his words had on Spike surprised him, the other man sighing and ducking his head.

“Spike?”

“Your boss asked me not to mess with your team’s equilibrium. I haven’t exactly been honouring that request.” Spike flushed at the admission.

“We’ve been pushing your buttons just as much as you’ve been pushing ours. It’s been an intense few days.” Sam said.

“And it’ll be over soon.” Ed spoke from the doorway. “We’re gonna head out in an hour. Team Four are leaving to execute a warrant so we’re gonna use them as cover to make our exit.”

“And then what?” Spike asked.

“And then we bed down and wait for Guns and Gangs to decide how they’re going to play this.” Ed replied, then disappeared back outside.

Spike flopped back into his chair, letting it spin slowly around.

“Great. More waiting, just what I was hoping for.”

“It might not be what you want, but it’s what you need. Rest and recovery time.” Sam said. “You should eat and have some water.”

Spike grumbled something inaudible under his breath but did as Sam suggested. He even managed a smile and a thank you when Jules returned minutes later with the promised orange juice.

“If I can’t get drunk, I’ll have to make do with a sugar high.” He grinned and they couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“You’re hard enough to handle sober. You drunk might require back-up.”

“Don’t mind him, Spike. When this is over, we’ll take you out for a few beers. And some pie.”

Spike’s eyes lit up. “Pie? I love pie. What kind of pie?”

When Ed stuck his head in the door a while later, they were arguing loudly over the best types of pie. He shook his head ruefully and went to find Greg.


	13. Turning Tail

Spike went for a nap as soon as they arrived back at the apartment. He woke a few hours later to find Ed on the bed next to him, sitting up against the headboard and reading a novel. Spike settled for watching him as his blue eyes tracked the words across the page. Thinking back to when they’d first met, he felt a heavy sense of regret at how things had spiralled from there.

“Stop thinking so loudly, you’re giving me a headache.” Ed said, not taking his eyes from the page.

“Sorry.” He turned away.

“That was a joke.”

Spike didn’t look back at him.

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Ed put his book down and turned towards him.

When Spike couldn’t muster a response, a warm hand found his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Tears welled up unbidden and he couldn’t hold them back.

Hands turned him. “Hey, shhh, it’s alright.” He let Ed pull him into an embrace, tears leaking into Ed’s t-shirt.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He asked, voice very gentle. Spike shook his head, face brushing against the material of Ed’s shirt.

“Okay, that’s okay.” Ed didn’t press or push, strong arms holding Spike securely. “When all this is over, I am taking you out for a dinner date. The best burgers you have ever tasted, cold beers and plenty of dark corners.” He teased.

“Are you sure you’ll want to, after all this is over?” Spike got to the crux of the issue, the heart of his worries.

“Why wouldn’t I want to?”

“I’ve been nothing but trouble since we met.” Spike turned his head to the side, letting one cheek rest against Ed’s chest. “And I'm not going to be worth it.”

Ed’s hand found Spike’s other cheek, thumb caressing his skin. “I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do, not because I’m expecting anything. And buddy, you are more than worth it. I’d really like to see where this thing between us goes.”

Spike brought one hand up and covered Ed’s, turning his head to place a kiss in Ed’s palm.

“I don’t do too well in relationships.” He admitted. “Like mayflies you know, they burn bright and then they burn out. I’m not saying I won’t give it a go, but I just want you to know what to expect.”

“What, you think I can’t handle you?” Ed sounded bemused.

“It’s not that. I…” Spike struggled to get the words out, then decided to tackle it differently. “The happiest relationship I’ve ever been in was with two guys I met in college, Thomas and Jason. I was the glue that held us together for three years. It was really great. We had the best of times.”

“What happened?” Ed asked quietly.

“It was an open relationship, so while we lived and slept together, we could see other people it we wanted. One of the guys fell in love and decided he wanted out. Jay and I stayed together for a while longer but then he got his dream job, in Europe. But that was okay. We had a few months warning and we knew without Tom the relationship was never going to last so we enjoyed what time we had together.”

He sighed, feeling keenly what he’d lost when that relationship ended.

“I’ve done monogamous and it just doesn’t work. The people I’m with always feel that one on one is too intense. The only ones who can handle it are like the guy I told you about. He was one of the only people who could take my intensity but he needed total control, needed discipline, and that scared me.”

Ed’s hand stilled. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing I hadn’t agreed to. But eight months in I looked in the mirror and I didn’t like what I saw.”

“And what was that?”

Spike hid his face, suddenly embarrassed.

“Control and discipline. He hurt you?”

“I told you, nothing I didn’t agree to. And it worked, for a while. I thought I’d found the solution to my relationship problems.”

“But…” Ed prompted

“Then it got too much. I was miserable and bruised and I knew I couldn’t keep going like that.”

“Spike, I’m not sure what it is you’re trying to tell me.” Ed sounded genuinely lost.

“I guess what I’m saying is that alone, you won’t sustain a relationship with me but…”

“But what?” Ed’s thumb and forefinger caught Spike’s chin, tugging his face up until they were eye to eye.

“With someone you trust to share it, it might be one of the best relationships you’ve ever had.”

Ed sat up abruptly, throwing an unsettling look in Spike's direction, and he pulled away.

“Is that what this has all been about? With Sam and Greg? You’ve been what? Sounding us out?”

Spike opened his mouth to reply but Ed held up a hand, shaking his head. “No, you know what, let’s not do this now. Greg wants to speak with you, I’ll let him know you’re up.”

And then he was gone.

Spike let himself fall back onto the bed. He’d been stupid. What had made him think this was a good time to broach the subject? He’d planned to slowly nudge the idea into Ed’s head. Instead he’d introduced it with all the finesse of a large calibre bullet.

He heard voices outside and decided it would be better to go out and join them than dwell on his idiocy. As he opened the door, three faces turned in his direction. Ed looked away almost immediately and Spike looked down, willing away the redness he knew was suffusing his cheeks.

“Hey Spike, come on in and take a seat. Sergeant Cooper has been in contact.” Greg called.

Crossing the room, he sat down next to Sam, the other man giving him a questioning look.

“They’ve got arrest warrants for all the parties involved. They’re going to move on them tonight. You’ll stay here with us until tomorrow and then we’ll re-evaluate. At that point it might be safe for you to stay with one of us for a bit and then return home eventually.”

“Will they get bail?”

“Possibly, but it’ll be made clear to them that the evidence against them is a lot more than just your testimony. You won’t be a target anymore.”

“That’s… that’s great.” He tried to sound enthusiastic but Ed was standing by the window, his back to them.

“I might go and grab a shower.” Spike said, suddenly feeling the urge to scrub himself clean. The way Ed had looked at him made him feel dirty, like he'd been caked in mud.

***

Sam left to get them some dinner, leaving Greg and Ed alone in the main room, the buzz of the shower in the background.

“Eddie, something wrong?”

“No.” came the short reply.

Greg moved until they were standing side by side, looking out the window.

“Are you sure?”

The other man sighed, casting his eyes up to the ceiling before turning to Greg.

“Spike and I talked. He… I’m not clear on exactly what we were talking about, but he said he doesn’t do monogamy.”

“So if you were to start a relationship, he’d want it to be an open one?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“Some combination of you, me and Sam, I think.”

To Ed’s surprise, Greg started to chuckle. “Oh boy, we should have seen that coming.”

“I’m glad you find it funny.” Ed’s glare was enough to tell him that he certainly didn’t.

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m flattered. A guy like Spike is going to be a handful, really and truly. I can see where more pairs of hands might come in useful.” Greg’s reply seemed to ease some of the tension within Ed.

“I don’t have any clue how I’m supposed to respond to this.”

“If you want my advice, don’t make any snap decisions. Talk to Spike, see what’s actually going through that head of his.”

Ed braced his arm against the window, letting his forehead rest against it.

“He mentioned bruises. From a previous partner.”

Greg’s eyes closed for a moment before he opened them, shaking his head.

“He tell you what happened?”

“He said it was nothing he hadn’t agreed to but he’s told me before that he doesn’t like pain so I think there’s more to it than he’s letting on.”

“That bad experience he mentioned?”

“Yeah.”

The shower shut off.

“You want me to talk to him?” Greg offered. Ed longed to take him up on the offer, take the easy way out, but knew he couldn’t.

“Let me try first. I’ll call you in if I need back-up.”

Ed waited for Spike to venture out of the bathroom. When ten minutes passed without sign of the younger man, he knocked.

“Buddy, you didn’t get washed down the drain did you?”

He heard shuffling from inside then the door opened. Spike was dressed, hair wet and standing on end. He eyed Ed warily but didn’t speak.

“We need to rewrap your hand. Let’s go into the bedroom.”

Ed grabbed the first aid kit from the counter, following Spike into the room. The younger man was sitting on the edge of the bed.

Taking a seat next to him, Ed reached for his hand. Spike let him take it, seeming quiet and subdued.

“I’m sorry about before.” Ed offered. “You caught me a bit unprepared, that’s all.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have sprung that on you. It wasn’t fair.” Spike seemed stricken.

“Apology accepted, if you accept mine.”

“Of course.” Spike perked up a little.

“So tell me about him.” Ed said. “Discipline and control guy. He was the bad experience you talked about, yeah?”

“Yeah, he was. But it wasn’t what you think.”

“Okay, so tell me.” Ed said insistently.

“He was military. Navy. He’d been injured on active service and had transferred to a training role. He was all about the discipline and order. Only after a while it got a bit too heavy. When we’d argue, he’d impress his point on me with his hands. I mean, he never hit me or anything but he’d squeeze pretty hard.”

“Hard enough to bruise.” Ed said flatly as he unwrapped the outer bandage surrounding Spike’s hand.

“Yeah. But it wasn’t just that. He was disciplined in every area of his life, and mine. What I ate and drank, when I went out, who I saw…”

“So he was controlling?”

“Yeah. At first it helped, it really settled me down. I’d gone off the rails after Tom and Jay left. But then it was stifling. I was stressed all the time trying to live up to his expectations. So I ended it.”

“How’d he take that?” Ed asked, as he looked Spike’s injured hand over carefully.

“He was really good about it. He wasn’t a bad guy and he’d made clear his expectations before we got serious.”

“Even the bruises?” There was no hiding the scepticism in Ed’s voice.

“He knew I didn’t like pain. It was never part of our relationship. The bruises were a little more complicated.”

“From where I’m sitting, it looks pretty black and white.”

Spike shrugged. “Well, it wasn’t.”

Ed decided to let it go, sensing Spike was more than a little defensive about it. Instead, he focused on wrapping the fresh bandage around his hand, winding the soft material securely.

“Spike, if control and discipline are what you’re looking for, you need to know now that that is not how I roll.”

The younger man was shaking his head before Ed had even finished speaking.

“No. I know now that doesn’t work. And I don’t want to be that miserable ever again. But I’m tired of being lonely. Of being alone. If you’re not interested in anything more complicated than me and you, then I can live with that.” Spike’s sad eyes met his.

“But you don’t think it’ll last?” Ed met his gaze head on.

“Past experience tells me it won’t. I’m just not that person. I wish I was. Things would be a lot easier.”

Voices outside told them Sam had returned and Ed decided to wrap up the conversation.

“I need to do some thinking, Spike. And you need rest, you are worn out buddy.”

There was a knock on the door. “Food is here guys.”

“Be out in a minute.” Ed called before turning back to Spike.

“Are we okay, Spike?”

“You haven’t run a mile so yeah, we’re okay.” Spike replied with a small smile.

“Takes more than an unorthodox suggestion to make me turn tail.” Ed replied and Spike’s smile became a grin.


	14. Turnabout

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. This took a lot longer than expected to write.

The next day was one of restless anticipation, all four of them cooped up in the apartment waiting to hear the outcome of the arrests. Guns and Gangs been planning to execute the warrants at dawn but it was after lunch when Greg got a call from Cooper. He stepped outside to take it, leaving Ed and Sam to keep Spike calm. The younger man had had another broken night’s sleep and had made his way through three cups of coffee before Ed caught on and cut him off. Exhausted, jittery and overwrought was not a good combination.

Ed had finally caught hold of him while he paced the floor. “Spike, buddy, what do you need?”

“I feel like a caged bird. I need to get out.” His chest was rising and falling rapidly and he tried to pull away from Ed’s hands.

“Hey, calm down. Nice slow breaths.” Ed’s gentle encouragement was unsuccessful. He pushed Spike towards the couch and got him sitting down, taking a seat next to him, wrapping an arm around the younger man. It wouldn’t do to have him run now.

“Ed, I need…” He tried to get to his feet again.

“Just breathe, Spike. Right now that’s all you need to focus on. Here.”

He shifted them around so Spike was sitting between his legs, his back against Ed’s chest and wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man.

“Breathe with me, okay?”

Spike didn’t reply. Gradually his breathing slowed to match Ed’s, but he was trembling finely.

“It’s all going to be okay.” Ed murmured in his ear. “Greg’s gonna come in here and tell us that they arrested those bastards. Then we’ll get out of here, get you some fresh air and you can spend the night at my place or Greg’s.”

Spike sagged, leaning forward. “I need more coffee.” He declared.

“No, we’ve cut you off. You’re already bouncing off the walls.” Sam said firmly, arms crossed.

“I’m a grown man, not a toddler. If I want coffee…”

“You’ll have to get past two trained SRU officers.” Sam finished.

“No fair.” He groused quietly.

“Life’s not fair.” Ed said.

“Don’t I know it.” Spike replied morosely.

“Spike, you need to hold on just a little longer.” Sam encouraged.

The door opened and Greg walked in. He surveyed the room, frowning at what he saw, and closed the door quietly behind him.

He took a seat opposite Spike and Ed, waving Sam into the space next to him.

“It’s good news Spike. They picked up Holby, Bradley, your old Sergeant and over a dozen others. They’ll hold them for the maximum time and then arrange bail hearings.”

Spike let his eyes close and leaned back against Ed.

“Still want to get out of here?” Ed asked.

“I want to go home.”

“That might need to wait a few days, Spike. We still need to take some precautions to ensure your safety. And Guns and Gangs have asked to speak to you again this afternoon.” Greg advised.

“Fine. Can we just get out of here, please?”

It took minutes to pack up their stuff, straighten the place out and bundle a protesting Spike back into a vest, and then they were heading for the cars.

“We’ll go straight to see Sergeant Cooper now, then you can come to my place.” Ed said, as they buckled seatbelts. Sam drove while Ed sat in the back with Spike. Greg followed them in the second car.

“Can I go home first? Pick up some stuff?” Ed was relieved that Spike seemed to have accepted the need to be cautious for another few days.

“Sure. We’ll head there right after we’re finished with Cooper.” Ed assured him.

“Thanks.” Spike said. He was watching out the car window. “And I’m sorry. About before.” Hunching his shoulders, the younger man turned to peer over at him.

“It’s forgotten. We just want you safe, buddy. Try and work with us, okay?”

“Okay, Ed. I’ll try.” There was the smallest hint of a smile on Spike’s face.

They pulled up in front of the building, Sam getting out first and taking a look around before Ed exited the vehicle. Greg pulled up and joined them. They got Spike out of the car last, Sam jogging ahead to clear the path to the door while Ed escorted Spike and Greg followed behind.

They were halfway to the door when the kick of an engine sounded. Motorcycle.

“Ed. Down.” Greg’s warning came a split second too late, as the sound of gunfire echoed through the street. Ed did what he was trained to do, diving towards Spike and throwing them both to the ground.

He heard more gunshots. Closer. Sam and Greg returning fire.

Spike was very still beneath him at first but then he turned. It was only at that moment that the pain began to register. And Spike, wide-eyed, spoke up. “You’ve been hit.”

***

It all happened in seconds. They were walking to the door and there was the sound of a motorbike that seemed to come from nowhere. Then gunshots and Ed slamming into him, knocking them both to the ground. Spike felt the sharp pain in his upper arm but was distracted by his body hitting the concrete and hail of gunfire that seemed to follow the initial shots.

There was lots of shouting above them and he twisted a little, trying to see Ed’s face. It wasn’t his face that stole Spike’s attention. It was the growing dark patch on his shirt just above his vest.

“You’ve been hit.” He reached a hand to touch the wound, wincing when his arm protested sharply at the motion. He ignored it, focused on getting pressure on Ed’s wound.

Ed wasn’t moving and Spike knew he needed to act fast. There’d been multiple shots. Ed could have more bullet wounds.

“Ed, roll to your left.” He called, as he pushed upwards. Ed resisted at first. “Stay down, Spike.”  
But with Spike’s insistent pushing, he moved.

“I need to get pressure on that wound.” Spike said, shifting to his knees. “Can you roll onto your side so I can check your back?”

He did so, but only at Spike’s repeated insistence. “Took one to the vest.” Ed coughed, a pained grimace crossing his face.

“Two to the vest. One through and through.” Spike corrected, rolling Ed onto his back once more.

“We need paramedics.” He yelled, to no one in particular. There was still chaos around them. Lots of people, lots of guns, a loose perimeter surrounding them.

“You’ve been hit too.” Ed said, trying to sit up as he reached for Spike’s arm.

“It’s a flesh wound. Stay still, Ed.” He said, pushing the other man back down.

He yanked off his pullover, bundled it and pressed it against the exit wound on Ed’s shoulder. He used his other hand to keep pressure on the smaller entrance wound in Ed’s back.

He thought through his first aid training. It was left sided, chest wound. Above his heart. That meant major blood vessels in the way, potential lung collapse. Not good. Despite the pressure he exerted, blood continued to seep out, soaking his pullover and his hand.

“Eddie.”

_Finally._

Greg knelt beside them, a pack in his hand. “I’m gonna press this on the wound. It’ll help slow the blood loss. Lift up, Spike.”

Ed hissed as the pack was pressed against him. “Greg, Spike’s been hit. Take a look at him.”

“I’m fine. It’s nothing. He’s the one with the bullet hole in his chest. And he took two in the vest.”

“Sam?” Greg called. The man in question appeared seconds later, first aid pack in his hands.

“We need pressure bandages for Ed. And then you can take a look at Spike’s arm.”

More hands came to help and Spike found himself separated from Ed and put sitting a few metres away while Sam bandaged his arm.

“It’s more than a graze.” Sam said, when Spike protested and tried to return to Ed’s side. “There’s a bullet lodged in your arm. That’s going to need to come out. Just hold tight and let me wrap it.”

“Did you get the shooter?” Spike asked, trying to catch a glimpse of Ed through the throngs of people as the paramedics arrived.

“Yeah. Greg clipped him, I took out a tire, and the gunman took a tumble off his bike.”

“I thought I’d be okay now that they arrested everyone. Why are they still coming after me?”

“That’s a good question. And we will get some answers for you. But right now let’s focus on no one bleeding to death, okay?” Sam’s hand squeezed his shoulder.

The ride to the hospital was uncomfortable. They’d taken Ed off in the first ambulance and wouldn’t agree to Spike’s request to travel with him. “You’ll get your own ride. Just hold on.” Sam had said.

Greg had gone with Ed and Spike was glad. He didn’t want him to be alone. Sam rode with Spike. The paramedic taking care of him seemed nervous. Hard to blame him, Spike thought, seeing as they had a police escort both in and outside the vehicle.

There was no waiting around when they got to the hospital. Spike was brought straight through to be assessed.

“Bullet needs to come out. We’ll x-ray and see what the damage is.” The doctor said.

“Can you go find out about Ed?” Spike asked Sam.

“I’m not leaving you. The rest of team one are on their way. Once they get here, we’ll get an update.”

Immediately after the x-ray, they sent him for a CT. A bad sign, Spike guessed, from the looks passing between the medics.

Sam and two uniformed officers escorted him there and back. The doctor was quick to return with the verdict.

“There’s a bullet fragment perilously close to an artery, possibly penetrating it. We can’t risk taking it out while you’re awake so we’ll do it under a general anaesthetic.”

“Can I go see Ed first…” he started to ask.

“ _Perilously close_ , Mr. Scarlatti. If it is in the artery and it dislodges, you might bleed out. We need to get in there now, get the fragments out and repair the artery. We’re taking you to theatre right away. The anaesthetist will meet us there.”

“Sam?” Spike turned his head, relieved to find the blond right next to him.

“I’m here. I’ll stay with you until they take you in and I’ll be right outside the whole time. Ed will be okay. You can see him after.” Sam held his hand, squeezing tightly.

It was all a bit of a blur after that. On the way down the corridor to the theatre everything went fuzzy, and an alarm started to beep.

“His bp is crashing.” Someone called. “His wound is bleeding through the bandage.”

“The artery must have opened up. We need to get him into theatre, now.” He recognised the doctor’s voice, though it sounded distant.

“Spike? Hold on, okay? We’re here with you. You need to hold on.” Sam’s voice was the last thing he heard as the world faded to black.

***

He woke in a darkened space, the slow, irritating beep of a machine keeping him company. Opening his eyes, he glanced around. There was just enough light to make out a hospital room. He felt exhausted and hazy. The kind of hazy that came with strong pain relief. Beneath that there was a dull but persistent ache in his arm. 

It was a small ward. Just two beds. The other bed was also occupied. Spike sat up, peering across the room at the familiar form. He went to swing his legs out of bed, but found himself tethered by an IV line in his uninjured arm. He contemplated it, examining it with careful fingers. One small tug and…

“Don’t even think about it, Spike.” Ed’s hoarse voice carried across the room.

He dropped his hand. “Ed? Are you okay?”

“I’m alright, buddy. How about I ring the bell and we get some more light in here?” The door opened as he spoke.

“You’re both awake. Good. I’ll turn the lights up.” A voice spoke from the doorway. “That’s better.” The nurse said as the room brightened. “How is the pain, Officer Lane?”

“It’s not too bad. And you can call me Ed.” The other man replied.

“I know what you SRU guys are like. What’s ‘not too bad’ out of ten on the pain scale?”

“Five.” Ed replied easily, raising his eyebrows at Spike.

“Hmm. Well. You’ve got a pain medication pump beside your right hand. Use it.” She pivoted until she was looking at Spike.

“And you, Mr. Scarlatti?”

“Three and a half.” He replied with a smile. She pursed her lips, eyes narrowed.

“No pump for you. Ring the bell if it gets above five. You’re due another dose in two hours. Otherwise, rest and recuperate. There are two uniformed guards outside the door.” She didn’t seem impressed with that.

She left, and Spike looked back at Ed. The older man’s eyes were drooping closed. Spike bit back the words he was about to say. Ed needed his rest.

***

He hadn’t meant to fall back asleep, fully intending on having a conversation with Spike, but then he was out for the count again. When he woke, there was a familiar dark head of hair next to his bed.

“Spike?”

“You’re awake.” Spike’s eyes met his for one brief moment.

“You should be in bed. Please tell me you didn’t pull your IV out?”

“I’m okay. And my IV is right here, next to yours.” Spike pointed upward and Ed craned his neck to see two IV bags hanging together on the hook beside his bed.

When he looked back, Spike’s head was down again.

“How are you feeling buddy? Are you sure you should be out of bed?”

“Me? I’m not the one who took a bullet a few inches above his heart.”

Ed reached his hand towards Spike’s where it lay on his blanket but the younger man pulled away.

“I’m really sorry Ed. I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”

“Hey.” He pushed himself to a sitting position, suppressing a groan as it tugged at his stitches. “Spike, that was not your fault. You got hurt too and that shouldn’t have happened while I was protecting you.”

“I’m fine. It’s barely a scratch.”

“That’s not true. I overheard the doctors talking. You lost a lot of blood. They had to transfuse you. I really think you should be in bed.” He reached over, grabbing hold of Spike’s hand.

“Hey.” He said again when Spike didn’t raise his head. “I’m okay and so are you. That’s what matters.”

The younger man looked up, brown eyes meeting his.

“You look done in.” Ed murmured, releasing Spike’s hand to cup his cheek.

“I’m not tired.” Spike protested.

“Yeah, you are.” Ed said.

Rolling his eyes, Spike shrugged. “I can’t sleep. Every time I close my eyes, I hear a noise and think someone’s here.”

Ed let his thumb stroke across Spike’s cheek, the other man’s eyes slipping closed.

“Fine.” He said, shifting over to make room. “Lie down next to me. But if Nurse Ratched comes back, you’re on your own.”

“Um…” Spike hesitated. “You need your rest more than I do. I’ll go back to bed.” He started to stand.

“Lie down. Don’t make me cross the room to join you. Penetrating chest wound, remember?” Ed grinned to take the sting out of his words. The bullet had exited above his clavicle, nicking his lung and missing anything vital. The word lucky had been bandied about since he’d woken.

Spike grumbled but let Ed tug him towards the bed. He lay down next to him, body pressed against Ed’s uninjured side.

“That’s it. Let’s get some sleep, buddy.” Ed coaxed, his own eyelids growing heavy once more.

A muted sound of protest woke him sometime later.

“He needs to be in his own bed.” A woman hissed while a familiar voice shushed her.

“They’ve had a tough few days. Nurse Hallie, isn’t it? The most important thing is they’re getting some rest.”

Ed glanced down, spying Spike fast asleep, his body curled tightly against Ed’s side, injured arm held close to his body. He figured Spike had the right idea and let himself drift off once more.


	15. About Face

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Waves sheepishly* Only seven months later than planned. Better late than never, I guess.

He woke to find himself pressed against a warm body with a throbbing pain in his upper arm. Blinking his eyes open, he reached a hand towards the source of the pain. Fingers closed around his wrist, stopping him, and he was wide awake, trying to extract himself from the danger.

“Easy Spike, it’s just me,” a familiar voice soothed and his eyes met Greg’s.

“Where…” he looked around, taking in Ed asleep next to him and the dimly lit room.

“You’re still in the hospital, buddy. You were shot, Ed too. Evidently you decided to bunk in with him sometime during the night. I’ve been keeping the nurse from waking you.”

“Oh.” He blushed, imagining what it looked like, two grown men cuddled up together.

“It’s okay. Nurse Hallie agreed to keep it quiet so long as I got you back to bed before the morning ward round. Which will be in about an hour.”

Spike surveyed his arm, his shoulder throbbed as did his hand. Well, at least both injuries were the same side, it meant he still had one hand to work with. Another pressing need made itself known and he swung his legs over the edge of the bed.

“Whoa, Spike. Where are you off to?”

“Um, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Sure, okay.” Greg gave him an appraising look. “Alright, I’ll give you a hand.”

“I can manage.”

“Either you let me help, or you contend with the nurse and a bottle or a bedpan. Which’ll it be?”

Rolling his eyes, Spike let Greg detangle the IV line and help him up and across to the washroom, then back to his own bed. Ed slept through the disruption.

“How’d you end up over with Ed?” Greg asked, once Spike was settled.

At first he just shrugged, then, realising Greg wasn’t going to let it go, he added “I couldn’t sleep, so I sat beside him for a while. He woke up and told me to go back to bed but I couldn’t, so he said to lie down beside him.”

“Why couldn’t you go back to bed?” Greg seemed curious rather than exasperated.

“Every time I closed my eyes, every time I drifted off, I’d hear a noise or think I saw someone moving in the shadows and I’d be wide awake, my heart racing.”

“I’m not surprised you’re jumpy, buddy, after everything that’s happened. I’d have been here sooner but Sam and I were giving statements. He’s going to come and take over from me here in a few hours. So why don’t you try and get some more rest.”

“How long do I have to stay here?”

“For as long as the doctors say.” Greg’s reply was firm but it didn’t stop Spike sitting up and taking stock of the room. “Buddy, what are you doing? That doesn’t look much like getting rest,” Greg protested, the first hint of exasperation in his tone.

“I’m looking for the fire escape.”

“Okay, that’s it. Lie back.” Greg’s hands pushed him back down onto the bed.

“No,” Spike protested, struggling under his grip. “I need to know there’s a way out. An escape.”

“And you’re just going to leave Ed behind?”

“They’re not after Ed, they’re after me.”

“Well, they’re just going to be disappointed then, aren’t they? There’s two uniforms and an SRU officer outside and I’m inside here with you. There’s no way they’re getting to you.”

“I’m not taking that chance. I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt.” He fought harder against the older man’s grip.

“Spike, that’s enough. If you don’t settle down, I’ll have to get them to sedate you.”

He turned wide eyes towards the other man. “No, you can’t. You wouldn’t. I won’t be able to defend myself when they come…” If anything, Greg’s threat just panicked him more, the blood rushing through his head, the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

Greg’s tone changed suddenly. Gone was the gentle, cajoling, encouraging voice he’d heard so far. In its place was the voice of authority, one that demanded attention.

“Spike. Stop this. _Right now_.”

He ceased his struggles but couldn’t calm his body’s responses, his breaths coming in fast pants, his heart thudding in his chest.

“Lie down. On your side. Facing away from the door.” He moved, Greg’s hands helping him turn. That put him lying on his good arm.

“Good. Now, focus on my hand. That and only that.”

And Greg slipped his hand beneath the opening of the gown Spike wore and placed his palm on the bare skin of Spike’s back. His hand was cold, callused. It exerted a firm, steady pressure. He didn’t move it across Spike’s skin, didn’t lift it from Spike’s back, just held it there, unyielding; an anchor for Spike to cling to. Gradually, his breathing steadied, his heart slowed, and the fear receded.

When he thought he could keep his voice steady, he spoke. He meant to say thank you but what came out was “Sam would just have kissed me.”

“Uh-huh. I think this is working just fine. Close your eyes.”

“But what if…”

“Close. Your. Eyes.”

That tone was back, the words an unwavering demand. He shut his eyes.

Greg’s hand still lay on his back but now it moved, rubbing slow circles across his skin. It was nice to have something to focus on, outside of the chaos of his mind, outside of the fear and worry. Greg’s hand promised much. Safety. Security. Protection. Kindness. Boundaries. All things Spike had craved for a long time, especially the latter.

He woke to the sound of the door opening, finding the blankets pulled up to his chin, his body warm and sleepy beneath them. The anxiety rose as footsteps entered but he turned to see Greg sitting next to him and two strangers with stethoscopes in the doorway. Oh. The doctors.

Seeing he was awake, they made a beeline for him, leaving Ed asleep on the other side of the room.

“Mr. Scarlatti. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he tried to say, finding his voice hoarse. Greg held out a glass of water and helped him take a sip.

“How is the pain in your arm?”

“It’s fine,” he started to say but caught the sharp look Greg gave him and rolled his eyes. “It’s a five.”

Greg leaned forward, placing one hand on his arm, below the bandage. When Spike didn’t volunteer any more, Greg spoke. “He’s in a lot of pain between the meds. I’d guess closer to an eight for a half hour before the next dose.”

The doctor seemed bemused by the interruption. “Would you agree, Mr. Scarlatti?”

“I guess. It really starts to throb after a while.”

“We’ll increase the frequency of the pain medication. The good news is that the repair was a success and the blood supply to your arm hasn’t been compromised. The healing will delay the physiotherapy for your hand by a few days but that shouldn’t be much of a setback. You did require a blood transfusion. Your levels were already low due to the first injury.”

“When can I go home?”

“We’ll repeat your bloods this morning. If all looks good and there are no signs of infection, you might be out by this afternoon.”

They moved over to Ed, who’d woken during their conversation with Spike. They spoke softly but the words carried, even though Spike tried not to listen.

“You were very lucky, Mr. Lane, as we said last night. No major damage to blood vessels. You do have a small section of your lung that’s collapsed, and the impact cracked your clavicle but those injuries should right themselves. We’ll x-ray you again this morning. The physiotherapist will come and see you too. If they’re happy, you and Mr. Scarlatti will both be home by this evening.”

Spike perked up and Ed’s eyes met his across the room, unable to restrain his grin.

The doctors departed.

“Not too shabby for two gunshot wounds.” Ed commented.

“ _Lucky_ Ed, the man said _lucky_. It wasn’t your talent or your amazing bulletproof skin that saved you. It was blind, dumb luck,” Greg bit out, getting to his feet and stalking towards the door.

“Greg, I didn’t mean—” Ed started to say. Spike barely heard him. All he saw was Greg— his shield, his safety— walking away.

“Wait, don’t…” he called out, scrambling from the bed and after the Sergeant.

“Spike,” Ed called out in warning as a sharp tear jerked him to a stop, his IV pulling out of his arm, and a trail of blood following it.

“Damn it, Spike.” Greg’s voice moved closer as he grabbed a handful of tissues and pressed them over the wound. “Eddie, ring the bell for the nurse, will you?”

“You were leaving. You said you’d be here until Sam came. That you wouldn’t let them get to me.”

“Aw, buddy.” Greg’s hand cradled his arm. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I would have been right outside.”

The day nurse was unimpressed by the sight she was greeted with and tried to kick Greg from the room but both Ed and Greg overruled her, insisting for Spike’s safety Greg should stay. She capitulated, shooting Spike an irritated look.

“Don’t worry,” Greg assured her. “With any luck, I‘ll have them both out of your hair by this evening.”

That brought a smile to her face as she inserted a new cannula into Spike’s arm. “Try not to pull this one out. We wouldn’t want to delay your discharge, would we?”

As she left, Sam arrived. “Sergeant Cooper is outside, boss. He wants to speak to you.”

Spike found himself grabbing hold of Greg’s arm. He forced himself to detach again as Greg spoke. “Sam’s here. He’ll stay until I come back. Right, Sam?”

“Of course.” Sam looked from Spike to Greg as if puzzled by the question.

Greg stood and left the room, Sam taking his seat beside Spike’s bed.

“How are you feeling?”

Spike shrugged. “I freaked out. Greg calmed me down. _He_ didn’t have to kiss me to do that.” He didn’t mean to sound accusing but that’s how it came out.

Ed choked back a laugh from the other side of the room. Spike glared at him.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it? That Greg hasn’t kissed you.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” Spike muttered, feeling his face flush.

“They’ve got you guys on the good stuff, huh?” Sam commented, grinning at them both.

“Oh, yeah,” Ed agreed dryly, rolling his eyes. “We are high as kites.”

“Long night?”

“I slept through most of it. I’m guessing you not so much, Spike?” Ed leveled him with a concerned stare.

“Wasn’t so bad once you and Greg were here.” That seemed to reassure the older man.

“Sam, what happened with the shooter?” Ed’s tone turned serious.

“He’s on another floor, under guard. Sergeant Cooper’s been interrogating him since he came to after surgery.”

When Greg returned, his expression was grim. He took Sam’s seat, pulling the chair close to Spike’s bed.

“The shooter talked. Hired by someone working with Bradley. He doesn’t know much but he was clear on the timeline. The hit was ordered by someone after the arrests of the officers involved. Someone who had to have paid a lot of money for it to be done so fast and for the shooter to take such a high risk as to go after you outside a police station.”

“But why would they do that?”

“Cooper thinks there must be someone else involved. Someone higher up, in a position of power, using the infrastructure created by Bradley and Holby for their own ends. He thinks maybe you know who that is.”

Spike shook his head. “No, I never saw any evidence of that.”

“This wouldn’t have been obvious, Spike. My guess is that what you saw was something innocuous, something most people wouldn’t even have registered. But someone is worried you’ll connect the dots. So you need to think. Any interactions between Bradley or Holby or any of those involved with someone who held an important or powerful role. It might be within the police force. It might be outside it.”

He shook his head again. Nothing was standing out. Nothing was coming to mind. “So I’m not safe yet?”

“Not until we…”

And it came back to Spike like it was yesterday. A handshake. A smile. A pat on the shoulder and “it’s always good to know you have someone you can trust to get the job done.”

“Adam Paynes.”

“Who?” Sam said as Ed asked. “The businessman?”

“Yeah, he sponsored a lot of fund-raising activities at my old station. He always seemed like a really genuine guy. I did look into him, because he and Bradley were on very good terms, but I never found anything. He was squeaky clean.”

“Maybe too clean,” Ed suggested.

“Alright. I’ll pass that on to Cooper. Sam will stay here with you and I’ll be back as soon as I’m done,” Greg said as he stood, anticipating the panic that rose instinctively in Spike at the thought of him leaving.

He didn’t quite manage to keep the emotion from his face despite Greg's words. Greg, about to step towards the door, came closer instead, leaning over towards Spike. Before he had time to think, to wonder, Greg’s hand was cradling his head as he pressed a kiss to Spike’s forehead.

“I’ll be back soon, buddy,” he murmured to him. “Hold tight.”


	16. Facing Forward

It was late afternoon before they got the all clear and Greg returned, Jules and Wordy in tow with a pair of wheelchairs.

“Alright, guys. We’ve got everything set up. You’re coming back to my place. We’ll have uniforms in a car at the front of the house and Sam and I inside the house. The cars are outside so we’re going to move you both together.”

Spike made a face at the wheelchairs but any protest he might have made was silenced by the look on Greg’s face and the Sergeant’s next words.

“It’s either home by my rules or you stay here tonight,” he said, making it clear they were the only options.

“Come on, Spike,” Ed said. “A night in a comfortable bed, non-hospital food. It’s worth a few minutes in a wheelchair.”

“Fine,” he said, belatedly realizing how ungrateful he sounded. “Thanks, Greg.”

Sam pulled the curtain around his bed and helped him get dressed in a T-shirt, sweats, shoes, a jacket, and a hat.

Given how warm it was in the hospital room, he raised eyebrows at the hat and jacket.

“Just in case anyone is watching out for you, you won’t be so easily spotted,” Sam explained.

“If I’m traveling incognito, shouldn’t I have some shades?” he asked, as Sam pulled back the curtain and helped him into the wheelchair. It took a bit longer to get Ed dressed and into his chair, and Spike felt a pang of guilt at hearing him hiss in pain.

“Are you sure you’re okay to leave?” he asked him. “I don’t mind staying another night if it means you’re comfortable.”

Ed managed a smile at his offer. “Buddy, I don’t want to prolong this visit any more than you do. I’ll sleep much better at Greg’s than I will here. And I’m all set up for managing the pain.” He held out a clear bag with the medication the nurse had brought. Spike had his own, which had been tucked into Sam’s jacket pocket.

“Okay, let’s move out,” Greg said.

Sam pushed his wheelchair, Greg taking Ed’s while Jules led the way accompanied by hospital security and Wordy followed behind. Spike would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t nervous. Hospitals were big and open, he was vulnerable if someone wanted to get to him. They’d already shown they weren’t above putting other people at risk to get to him.

He was surprised when they went through a door into a quiet corridor with the words ' _Staff Only'_ marked on it, ending up at an elevator bank, and heading down to the first floor.

“We’re going out through the back, the loading area for laundry and equipment,” Sam said, patting his uninjured shoulder. “We’ll only be out in the open for a minute, less even.”

Spike had barely a moment to adjust to the sudden daylight as he was wheeled outside before he was hustled into the back of an SUV. Sam got in next to him, an officer he didn’t know already at the wheel. Jules climbed into the passenger seat and they drove off.

***

It wasn’t a long drive to Greg’s house but by the time they’d arrived, Spike was struggling to keep his eyes open. He let Sam guide him upstairs and into bed, swallowing the tablets Sam offered with a mouthful of water from a bottle Sam produced from somewhere.

“Ed?” he asked.

“He’ll be in the room next door. Greg’s getting him settled.”

And Sam was getting Spike settled. Spike wondered about the divide as he drifted to sleep. Was it because Greg wanted to keep some distance between himself and Spike? Or because Ed was Sam’s superior officer, and that would be awkward.

Just before he lost the battle with consciousness, he heard Greg’s voice, felt Greg’s hand brush against his forehead. He smiled sleepily. The latter. He’d stake his life on it.

***

He woke alone, his arm throbbing. There was light coming in under the curtains, enough to tell him he’d slept through the night. He wasn’t stupid enough to open them, knowing he was still very much a wanted man by someone. And he’d once again put his safety in the hands of people he didn’t know. More than that. He was in Greg Parker’s house, with no phone, no clothes, no way to contact the outside world, and no exit. The people inside and outside, the ones ‘keeping him safe’ were also keeping him here. It took seconds for the world to feel small, the air cloying.

So when the door opened and Greg stepped inside, the first words out of Spike’s mouth were more accusation than greeting.

“Hi, Spi-”

“Why did you bring me here? Why not a safe house or a police station? Instead, you bring me here, you put me in your bed. What do you want from me?” No one got anything for free, if Greg was protecting him, then he wanted something, there’d be a price to pay.

He expected Greg to be angry, defensive, loud. Instead, he leaned back against the door with a sigh. “Take a breath, Spike. And not so loud, you’ll wake Ed.”

Spike suddenly realized what he’d said, what he’d accused Greg of. Oh, crap. What was he thinking?

***

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” Spike’s words were panicked, eyes flashing with fear as he scrambled to sit on the side of the bed.

“Hey.” Greg’s voice was sharp, commanding attention and forestalling the meltdown he could hear coming. He didn’t move, not wanting to see the flinch he knew he’d provoke in the already rattled man. “You’re safe with me. And I don’t just mean me standing between you and the bad guys. You have nothing to fear from me.”

Spike sucked in a breath and nodded. “I didn’t mean… I wasn’t suggesting…”

“Ed said you’d had a bad experience in the past. You’ve been hurt. It’s natural to feel apprehensive. Throw the last few days and weeks into the mix and, buddy, you’ve got to be right on the edge when it comes down to it. Trust me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere and I’m not letting anything happen you to. You are safe with me.”

Spike nodded mutely but the panic in his eyes abated with Greg’s words.

“Come on,” Greg said. “Let’s go down to the kitchen. Are you hungry?”

“Do you have any alcohol?” Greg almost smiled. Almost.

“Nope, no alcohol. Plus, doesn’t go so well with painkillers, buddy.”

“Coffee?”

“Coffee I can do. Nice coffee, even.”

Only then did he step forward, holding out a hand to help Spike to his feet. There was hesitation, a brief widening of Spike’s eyes at his closeness. But he took Greg’s hand, let Greg help him to his feet.

“How’s Ed?”

“He had a rough night, but he’s sleeping now.”

Spike made a face. “Do you think I woke him?”

“No, buddy. You weren’t that loud. Come on.”

He risked a hand on Spike’s uninjured shoulder, watching Spike for the most minute tells betrayed by his body language. As before, his commanding tone, even couched in gentleness as it was, got Spike relaxed and cooperative. Some of what Ed had told him, about Spike’s needs, about Spike’s previous relationship, was starting to make sense.

***

Spike sat up at the breakfast counter while Greg pulled his coffee press from the cupboard and set about making enough for the two of them.

“You don’t think giving me coffee is a bad idea?” Spike questioned.

“I think it’s a better idea than alcohol. And I know exactly how you’re going to spend today, so I don’t think one cup of coffee will do any harm.”

He worded it carefully, letting Spike know that there’d be just the one cup and not the half a dozen he’d had the last day in the apartment. And also heavily implying he expected Spike to follow his plan for the day. He half-anticipated a protest. Instead, Spike seemed genuinely interested.

“How will I be spending the day?”

“After coffee and some breakfast, you’re going to spend a few hours in the living room on the couch. You can have my laptop if you like, maybe get a bit of work done while I make some calls. Then lunch. Then upstairs for a few hours to rest. If Ed’s up for it, you can join him, if not either Sam or I will keep you company. Then dinner. Then we’ll watch a movie. Then bed.”

He watched Spike mull that over. What he expected was some push back. Spike trying to weasel another cup of coffee out of him, or protesting the enforced rest, or just the timetable in general.

What he got instead was typical Spike.

“Are you ever going to kiss me?”

“I did kiss you,” he pointed out.

“I don’t mean on my forehead or my cheek.”

“Where would you like me to kiss you?” he asked, letting a smile play across his face.

Spike blushed and ducked his head. Greg came closer, leaning against the counter beside him. He pressed two fingers under Spike’s chin and nudged his head up. Spike met his eyes, the need and yearning so clear and open on his face.

“How long has it been?” he asked softly. “Since someone gave you what you needed?”

Spike swallowed hard but didn’t break eye contact. “A long time,” he murmured. “Years…”

Greg could well believe it. Spike was something different, special in a way that Greg was only beginning to understand. He could just about see it, Spike at the center of a relationship that drew people together, like he was the sun and others were pulled into his orbit.

He stroked a thumb across Spike’s cheek, leaning in to press another kiss to his forehead. “You’ll have to be patient, Spike. A relationship is a delicate balance. And the more parts, the more delicate that balance.”

“I know. But do you think it could even be a possibility? Ed seemed so… taken aback.”

Greg could well believe it. He’d been Ed’s reaction with his own eyes.

“Ed is a very ‘by the book’ guy. Talk to him, give him some time to get his head around things. He’s been hurt, in the past, the same way most of us have. But he guards his heart a bit more closely because of it.”

***

Despite Spike’s resolution to make use of Greg’s laptop, he was sleepy after breakfast and wound up napping on the couch instead. Sam was there when he woke.

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” Sam gave him a lazy smile. “How’s the pain?”

Spike managed a frown. “Greg’s already plied me with painkillers, so don’t you try it.”

Sam raised his eyebrows and lifted his hand, the bottle of pills held in his fingers. “Says here every four to six hours. Greg said you took them just after eight and it’s one now.”

“That’s only five hours. And I’m fine.”

“You can have some with your lunch.” Sam wasn’t responding to his heated words, and it only made the whole thing more infuriating.

“Ed’s awake,” Sam said, cooling Spike’s growing anger.

“He is? Is he okay?”

“A little groggy. Greg’s going to bring him up some food.”

Spike sat up, swinging his feet to the floor.

“Whoa, Spike. Where are you going?”

“To see Ed.” He needed to see for himself that the other man was okay. He’d come close to death, too close, because of Spike. Spike owed him his life. He owed him more than he could repay.

“Food first, then visiting hours.” Greg spoke from the doorway, a plate and a glass in his hands. “Eat this first and take some pills.”

He set the plate and the glass of water down on the table in front of Spike.

“What, no coff-” Spike started to say, swallowing his words when he caught sight of the look on Greg’s face. “Thanks, this looks good,” he said instead.

Greg shook his head, trying to keep the smile from his face.

“Sam will keep you company while I’m up with Ed. Don’t give him any trouble, okay?”

“I’m not a kid,” Spike retorted hotly as Greg left the room.

“Well, you sure know how to act like one,” Sam said.

Spike’s face fell at the words. That wasn’t fair, was it?

“Hey, I’m just teasing you,” Sam said, sitting down next to him and bumping his shoulder.

“No, you’re right. I should try to act my age.”

“Hey, it hasn’t exactly been plain sailing these past few days. Between the pain and the meds, you’re not exactly in top form.”

With a sigh, Spike let his head rest against Sam’s shoulder. “I want all this to be over. I want to get back to my life.”

“You will, and soon. Guns and Gangs are on the case. It’s only a matter of time. And until then, we’ll keep you safe.”

Spike wanted to believe that, but Ed was lying upstairs with a bullet hole in his chest. Lucky, Greg had said. And the thing about luck was, it could go both ways. He’d had enough bad luck to last him a lifetime. Maybe he’d smashed a few mirrors as a kid and the years of bad luck were being served consecutively.

The smell of toasted cheese wafted over him and his stomach rumbled.

“Eat,” Sam said with a laugh, picking up a plate and handing it to him. He did as he was told for once. The first bite was heaven and he polished the sandwich off in no time.

“Good, huh?” Sam asked.

“Mm-hmm,” he replied, swallowing half the glass of water. Two pills appeared on Sam’s hand and Spike didn’t argue or protest, just took them, chasing them down with the rest of the water. His arm really was throbbing.

***

Sam guided him up the stairs a half-hour later. He was sleepy again. Maybe the pills, maybe the full stomach, maybe his body coming down from the adrenaline high. Whatever it was, all it took was the sight of Ed, sitting up in bed to wake him up.

“Hey, Spike.” Ed smiled wryly at him but his expression was tinged with pain and exhaustion.

“Hey, Ed.” He was more subdued. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

“I’ve had worse,” Ed replied. Greg was sitting on the edge of the bed and didn’t interrupt, not even when Ed patted the bed beside him.

“Come lie down, you look beat.”

“It’s the pain meds making me sleepy,” he said, but happily climbed onto the bed and stretched out next to Ed. Sam grabbed a seat at the end of the bed.

It was nice, all four of them together and not on high alert. It wasn’t everyday normal. Greg and Sam were armed. The curtains were drawn, leaving the room in semi-darkness, and Spike knew there was a cop car outside.

As he lay there, they chatted about stuff, the game on the next day, their work shifts, Ed’s recovery. Spike let most of it wash over him. Ed’s hand found his and squeezed and Spike realized he was falling asleep. He blinked his eyes open and gave Ed a small smile.

“Sorry.”

“Get some sleep, Spike. I’m going to do the same.”

He nodded and let his eyes close, Ed’s hand in his as he drifted off to sleep. They needed to talk but it could wait. They had time. Ed had bought it with his blood and very nearly his life. The least Spike could do was give him that chance he’d asked for. If Ed didn’t come around to his way of thinking, Spike would still offer him what he wanted. A relationship. A monogamous one. If that was what Ed wanted, if that was _all_ Ed wanted, Spike could live with that, for as long as it lasted. The choice had to be Ed’s. Spike owed him that much.


End file.
